


feels like I'm losing my mind (feels like a dream of me all the time)

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Series: kintsugi [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Asmo will kick them, BDSM, Biting, Blood Kink, Body Worship, Claiming, Consensual Mind Control, Demon Sex, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Double Penetration, Empath MC, Empathy, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, Interspecies Relationship(s), Love Confessions, MC is nonbinary, MC uses they/them pronouns, Magic Manifestation, Magical Accidents, Magical Tattoos, Mental Link, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex Magic, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Supportive Lucifer (Obey Me), Tail Sex, Wing Kink, and there's a lot of them in here, demons have mental health issues too, even if they don't want to, in this household people talk about their feelings, now with human friends, or mildly safe anyways, soft demon boys are the best boys, they are demons after all, yes I spent way too much time designing them, yes everyone has a monster cock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: Magical manifestations aren't always so easy, especially not for an empath as powerful as Briar. Add in a household full of demons that embody seven of the most powerful emotions and things are bound to spiral out of control--in more ways than one.
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Simeon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Series: kintsugi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669783
Comments: 121
Kudos: 326





	1. Feels Like I'm Losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first foray into this fandom! These boys had me at demon and now I'm hooked
> 
> Also, side note: I'm not finished with the game so please no spoilers for chapters past 10 <3
> 
> title is from the song losing my mind by mystery skulls

It does not come on fast and hard like in the movies. There is so sudden burst of power that lays it all out for the protagonist to see and come to terms with; there is no moment of falling through the shattered remains of the window that is Briar’s humanity. There is only the gradual incline of power, the shift in their awareness as their magic manifests itself.

The headaches are the first indicator that something is wrong. Briar has always been sensitive to light and sound but suddenly, it’s as if someone turned the dial on their senses all the way up. Sudden flashes of brightness start a dull throb in their temples that threatens to grow if Briar doesn’t find a dark corner to sequester themself in. The flow of many conversations around them makes it hard to concentrate which makes it especially hard to pay attention in class. Eating around their housemate’s is even worse when Mammon and whoever else has decided to pick on him break out into an argument.

They do their best to play it off. Briar knows that Lucifer would sweep them away in an instant if he thought that they were at risk, if not for Briar’s own wellbeing then for the sake of the exchange program. Being poked and prodded only sounds worse which is exactly why Briar does their best not to let on that they may be suffering.

Belphegor is the first to notice, if only because Briar latches onto his apathy with more desperation than they want to admit. He’s a rock in the middle of a river about to burst, steadfast and unmoving. There is no strange feedback when they’re around him, only a peace that fills their head with enough cotton to cushion what feels like their brain slamming into their skull.

The first time they realize that there is peace in being by his side is a particularly bad day. Briar’s last class had involved a group discussion that involved far too many voices at once in far too loud of pitch. The moon, despite its normally calm presence, was particularly bright and didn’t help any. Even burrowing into the oversized sweatshirt they’d been given by Beelzebub and donning the sunglasses Mammon had thrown at them one day didn’t help.

Their head pounds with every step they take. Distantly, Briar mourns the painkillers they’ve left in the human world. They wouldn’t be able to ask Lucifer to get them the next time he grabbed their usual prescriptions; it would be too telling. Perhaps Mammon could grab some the next time he visited the witches he liked to complain about?

“Briar?” Beelzebub frowns down at them. “What are you doing here?”

“What—” Briar’s eyes widen as they realize their hand had been about to knock on his door. It falls back down to their side, as lost as they are inside. Their thoughts are sluggish around the pounding in their head.

They flinch when a large hand comes down on their shoulder and gasp when _hungeremptyneed **hunger**_ fills their head.

“I’m sorry,” Briar manages to gasp once they’ve blinked past the haze to see Beelzebub’s hurt expression. “It’s been a bad day, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here in the first place—”

“Beel?” Belphegor’s voice is slow and sleepy as he pads his way over to the door. They must have woken him up from one of his many naps with the commotion. “What’s going on?”

Briar’s mouth goes to apologize again only to come up blank when their eyes meet Belphegor’s. For a moment the pain in their head eases and they’re able to take off the sunglasses still covering their eyes. Before they can register just what it is they’re doing they stumble past Beel and wrap themselves around Belphegor with a soft whimper.

Bliss is the best word they can use to describe how being close to Belphegor feels. Pure unadulterated _bliss_ , so relieving against the burn of their mind that they feel tears prick their eyes. It’s as if a fog envelops them, canceling out the world in a way that Briar has been unable to do for _weeks_.

“It’s okay, Beel,” Belphegor says as he leads Briar back towards their bed. “I’ll take care of it. Go eat.”

“But Belphie—”

“Please,” Briar whispers. Their voice is painfully raw, as if someone has been rubbing sandpaper along the surface of their throat. Desperation crawls up into their mouth and sits heavy on the back of their tongue. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Turn off the lights,” Belphie orders. Beel must listen because the click of the door sounds and the room is plunged into darkness.

It takes a few long moments of Briar shaking in the safety of Belphegor’s arms for them to come back to themselves enough to register their surroundings. They’re pillowed into Belphegor’s chest, hands fisted in his shirt and legs thrown over his lap. When they dare to open their eyes, they’re met with a calm gaze.

Belphegor always has the most peaceful eyes. His eyelids are always sleepy, the space under his eyes brushed with the barest of bruises. His eyes don’t change color the way some of the other’s do when they get worked up. They’re always a steadfast violet, the barest of pink wrapped around the iris.

“Hello,” he says calmly. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Briar grimaces and forces their hands to loosen their grip. “Only if you promise not to tell Lucifer.”

Something slips up Briar’s thigh to wrap around their waist; a glance down reveals that Belphegor has shifted into his demon form. His tail is a warm weight against their hip, and they relax some beneath it.

“Who do you think it is that you’re talking to?”

That gets a smile out of them. “Right,” Briar says. “Of course. How rude of me.”

Belphegor gives a lazy stretch before he flops back down onto his side with Briar in tow. He adjusts their position somewhat before he settles down into the pillows. “Go on then.”

“I’ve been having—migraines.” Briar grimaces. They’ve had migraines before but never like this. Something is off but they can’t think of any other way to describe it. “Everything is too loud and bright. For some reason, when I’m around you it all fades. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

A yawn that shows off sharp teeth follows the words. “I’ve been told I can be soothing when I want to be,” he says with detached amusement. “Does anyone else know about this?”

They shake their head. “ _I_ didn’t even really know about this until just now. I don’t know what’s going on but being lectured about health from Lucifer isn’t something I want to deal with.”

“You realize he’ll find out eventually.” His nose wrinkles. “He always does in the end. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’m putting it off for as long as I can,” Briar says despite how dumb an idea that is. They may not be as indestructible as a demon, but Lucifer can still hurt them if he really wants to. “I can go if you want, I didn’t mean to disturb your nap.”

His arms tighten. “No. Stay. I can put you to sleep to ease the pain.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll have Beel bring some back here. If he knows it’s for you, he _should_ be able to come back with something.”

“Should being the key word there.” Briar smiles and shifts closer to nuzzle into his shoulder. “Thank you, Belphie, really. I’ve been losing my mind with all these headaches.”

His breath warms the top of their head as his chin drops to tuck Briar in closer. “I can imagine. Sleep now, Briar. I’ll make sure you have sweet dreams.”

The suggestion holds a weight that sinks into Briar’s bones and makes it impossible to move. Their eyes close without a struggle before their breathing evens out.

* * *

**Two Heads Are Better**

**[Belphegor] > Tell the others Briar and I won’t be down for dinner**

**[Belphegor] > Bring some food back up with you too. I mean it, Briar isn’t feeling well. **

**[Beelzebub] > You always make things so difficult.**

**[Belphegor] > _.image.heartemoji._**

**[Beelzebub] > …**


	2. Self Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me and I blame Asmo. I was fully intending to drag this out further before the reveal but what can you do
> 
> *Note* Briar is nonbinary but was physically born into a female body

Mammon is—intense. Everything about him is so painfully loud, from his voice down to the aura around him. It’s something Briar loves about their protector but with their rising sickness it becomes harder and harder to be around him.

Mammon has always been their safe haven, even when he’s being abrasive. He’d been one of the first demons to earn their trust and they can’t deny that they have a special sort of fondness for him.

The problem is Mammon is around, and often. He’s used to having sleepovers in Briar’s room and Briar has always welcomed him with open arms. They’ve spent long nights cuddling in the dark and talking about everything and anything. Mammon is their confidant and it hurts to _hurt_ to be around him.

Briar doesn’t want to have to avoid touch just because something reverberates in their brain without their permission. They don’t want to turn down his company just because his presence is so loud. Without Mammon around there is a loss in their life and so they do their best to push through it.

* * *

There’s a knock on the door just as Briar is buttoning up their uniform jacket. Mammon barges in moments later before they can even say anything. He stops in his tracks at the sight of them, eyes wide.

Briar’s head tilts to the side as they smooth their hands down over their front. “What is it?”

Mammon shakes his head. There’s a blush staining his cheeks as he looks away with what he’ll deny is a pout. “You just haven’t worn the uniform like that in a while.” He gives a wild gesture towards them without looking. “Your hair is down, too.”

They glance down at themselves and the skirt that brushes the skin above their knees. They suppose that they _have_ been sticking with the male uniforms as of late. It was exhausting trying to keep track of looking proper whilst dealing with a migraine. Today though they were determined to have a good day. Mammon had invited them to play hooky after lunch and for the first time in a while they felt the distinct want to look pretty.

“It’s getting long,” Briar muses as they fall into step with Mammon. The smell of breakfast is filling the hall and their mouth waters in response. “You think I should cut it?”

“What? _No!”_ Mammon scowls at them as if they’ve suggested cutting up goldie and burying her in the yard. He seems to realize just how vehemently he has disagreed within moments and back peddles frantically. “I mean, do what you want, it’s not like THE Mammon cares about some stupid human’s hair. I just—”

Briar reaches out to catch one of his flailing hands and gives it a squeeze. “I like it long,” they interject before Mammon can spiral into a tirade that is sure to spike the faint throb at the back of their head. “It’s nice when people play with it. It does need a trim though, maybe Asmo can help me.”

His shoulders relax. “Just don’t go to his room alone,” he mutters. “that bastard’ll eat ya up.”

“It’s rather rude to talk about people when they’re not around to defend themselves,” Asmodeus tells him primly. He’s reached the dining room door at the same time that they have; a miracle considering his long beauty routine. He’s usually the last to the table. “What am I eating now?”

Briar tries not to fidget beside Mammon. Asmodeus has always made them nervous. He’s just so damn pretty and bright that standing next to him makes Briar feel like a speck of dust in the wake of his brilliance. Their hands always itch to touch his face, to make sure he’s actually _real_ —an action that would probably cause them to be scolded for messing up his appearance. “Me,” they say when the silence has stretched on too long. Their cheeks flush faintly as Asmodeus’ eyes swing to theirs. “I was just saying that I should ask you if you’ll help me trim my hair.”

His face lights up and his hands clap together. Briar tries not to squint like the light has suddenly been turned up too far. The air tastes light and sweet and something soothing washes over the ache in their head. “Of course! I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for _ages_! Shall we meet after school?”

Briar nods dumbly.

Mammon mutters something under his breath and yanks them along into the dining room. Beelzebub is already there, as he always is. Belphegor is beside him with his chin in his hand and his eyes closed. Satan sits across from them, looking like a model without even trying. And then there’s Lucifer.

His eyes meet theirs as they enter, and they give a half smile in response. They can’t help the way their pulse speeds under his attention and they’re not entirely sure if they’re relived or disappointed when he turns back to his breakfast.

“Keep yer hands off, you bastard!” Mammon hisses when Asmodeus tries to reach for them. “They asked you to do their hair, not for you to feel them up!”

“Are you sure you want to spend the day with this brute, dear,” Asmodeus says over him. His smile is wicked around the edges as he dances around Mammon’s swiping hands to whisper into Briar’s ear. “I’m sure I could prove to you how much better my company can be if given the chance.”

Briar sinks down into their seat beside Belphegor before they can fall down and stutters over a response. Mammon comes to the rescue and shoves Asmodeus to his spot on the opposite side of the table before flopping down into the seat beside them. He glares until his brother sits and even then, he looks ready to fight.

“You’re all too loud,” Belphegor complains. He leans into their side and they feel a wave of that same soothing fog they’ve grown accustomed too. Too much exposure has the unfortunate side effect of making them sleepy but little doses at a time are similar to pain killers.

Or getting high, they muse with some amusement.

“What’re you smiling at?” Mammon mutters.

“Belphegor is right,” Lucifer cuts in before another tirade can begin. His eyes are sharp, and he fixes Mammon with a piercing stare. “There’s no need to be so loud in the morning. Eat your breakfast and stop causing headaches.”

“It’s my fault,” Briar says before they can help it. Every time Mammon shrinks under Lucifer’s tone it instills a need in them to defend their protector in any way they can. They know that Lucifer loves his brother in his own way but demonhood has twisted that. Even knowing Lucifer would never truly harm Mammon past the point of no return, too many years in the human world makes sitting back and watching too painful. “Mammon was only trying to protect my—nonexistent—virtue.”

Asmodeus bats his eyes at them from across the table.

“Be that as it may,” Lucifer says with softened eyes. “just try to keep quiet for the rest of breakfast.”

Briar prods at Mammon’s ribs with an elbow when he grumbles. They shove a stack of pancakes toward him before he can protest. He takes the bribe with a pout and Briar smirks in victory.

“Here,” Beelzebub shoves a plate of small backstabbing sandwiches towards them. They’re breakfast style with what looks like egg and sausage. “You need to eat. You’re too skinny.”

Briar accepts the plate with a fond word of thanks and enjoys the stack of sandwiches. Mammon knows better than to steal from them; he’d learned the hard way when Beelzebub had transformed and snarled in challenge the first time he’d tried. They put a couple sandwiches on his plate instead and lean into Belphegor who seems to be dozing on their shoulder.

Breakfast is finished up without any mishaps as they break off to go their separate ways. Everyone has different schedules, though Mammon makes sure to walk them to class. “I’ll meet ya in the courtyard, alright? And don’t be late!”

Briar lets out a soft laugh and waves him off. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

They walk in and take their regular seat beside Simeon and Luke. Simeon looks flawless as usual while Luke looks particularly sleepy. He reminds them of Belphegor from the way he’s swaying toward Simeon with heavy eyes.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Simeon greets warmly. “It’s good to see you looking well.”

That gets their attention. “What do you mean?”

His eyebrows pinch faintly. “Ah, I simply meant that you haven’t seemed yourself these past few weeks. You’ve always been so tired, and I kept getting a strange feeling from you…” He trails off with a small shake of his head. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I was merely worried.”

“You didn’t,” Briar hurries to assure. “I’ve been having headaches but today is a good day so far.” They toy with the pen in their hands before they decide to ditch formality. “What do you mean about a strange feeling?”

Simeon smiles, soft and warm. He and Luke always have a soothing quality about them; Briar has always assumed that it’s because they’re angels. “It’s nothing serious. Just a sense that more is going on beneath the surface; that you may be struggling more than you let on.”

A sharp burst of air leaves their lips. “I have a bad habit of doing that.”

“S’ the demons,” Luke slurs, his vowels worn and dragged out with exhaustion.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Simeon chides.

“What happened to him?” Briar asks with raised eyebrows. Just being near Luke feels like someone has wrapped a blanket around them, urging them to join him in his need for sleep.

Simeon chuckles and shoots his companion a fond look. “He was up late studying and then thought of a new recipe he wanted to try. I found him face first in some flour in the kitchen.”

“Cookies were worth it.”

“Yes, they were quite good,” Simeon soothes. “You should still take better care of yourself.”

He earns a grumble and a shove that’s barely there before Luke settles even more heavily against him. Briar grimaces in sympathy. “At least it’s not discussion day.”

“No,” he agrees. “Small mercies.”

The door opens to let in their current lecturer, and they fall into silence to take notes, the occasional whisper traded every now and then. It’s gotten easier to stay grounded in class now that they’ve got Belphegor’s help after school. Their mind isn’t always pulled too thin and the small reprieve has seemed to do wonders as of late.

They leave class in a rather happy state and find themselves still in that state when they find Mammon in the courtyard.

“What’s with that big smile?”

Briar’s grin widens. “Oh nothing, I just feel good, that’s all.”

Mammon shoots them a look even as their hands find one another. “Weirdo.”

“Shopaholic,” they return without heat.

“And damn proud of it.” He swings their hands as they make their way out of the school gates. The school grounds disappear behind them as the city opens up. Briar does their best to ignore the stares but it’s hard to block out everything else.

The city had been overwhelming when they’d first arrived in Devildom but never like this. The air is cloying and oppressive as demons on the street stare at the two of them. It feels like spiders are crawling over their skin and they can’t help but press closer to Mammon, no matter how weak it might make them seem. Mammon picks up on the shift and wraps his arm around their shoulders in a protective hold.

“You okay?”

Briar forces themselves to let out a breath through their mouth despite the fact that the air tastes like rot. Judgement is a thick sludge at the back of their throat, and they fear swallowing it. “Yeah, just overwhelmed. I’ll be fine though, promise.” They shoot him a small smile and wrap their own arm around his waist. “I’ll be even better once we’ve eaten.”

He makes a sound of agreement and speeds up enough to make their shorter legs fight to catch up. Hell’s Kitchen is bustling with the lunch hour, but Mammon’s status is enough to ensure they get a table. The name had inspired laughter in Briar the first time they’d heard it and they’d spent several nights with the brothers showing them the wonders of Gordon Ramsey. Beelzebub in particular had taken a shine to him with a solemnness that had Briar laughing even harder.

Mammon was content with a bowl of his favorite noodles while they ordered bat wings in howling sauce with a side of cursed fries. They were curled and green with interesting red spots but to Briar they tasted close to regular curly fries.

“Ya going to explain why you’ve been so damn mopey the past few weeks or am I goin’ to have’ta pull it outta you?”

Briar blinks in surprise and glances up at him. At the look on his face they turn sheepish. Of course Mammon would notice their change in behavior, he was the closest to them, after all. “It’s just some human stuff,” they shrug off. “I’m sorry if it’s been bothering you. I’m working on getting it under control.”

“Human stuff?” He repeats skeptically. “Like what?”

“Just—” they flounder for a moment, hand grasping uselessly at the air as if they can pull the words out of the sky. “light and sound sensitivity, I guess? I must still be adjusting.”

“ _That’s_ why you’ve been hangin’ around Belphie in the dark so much?”

Briar toys with their hair, fingers twisting long strands into small curls. “Did you think it was something else?”

Mammon scowls and stabs at his noodles with particular force. “What’re ya supposed to think when your human is shacking up with someone in the dark?”

“Okay, first off, we were not ‘shacking up’.” Briar lifts a hand to try and hide their smile. “All we did was sleep, it’s _Belphegor_ , after all. Second of all—are you jealous?”

“What?!” He sputters and nearly sends his bowl flying. “Don’t be ridiculous, why would—”

“THE Mammon be jealous about a human?” They finish knowingly. Their foot kicks him gently under the table. “Come on, we’re not in front of your brothers and it’s so busy I doubt anyone is paying attention to us. Just tell me the truth.”

His embarrassment is hot and raises goosebumps on their skin. They feel a bit bad when his cheeks flush, especially since they’re having trouble breathing around the confliction he’s pouring out into the air.

“I just think that if you should be cuddling with anyone in the dark it should be me,” he finally gets out, voice petulant like a child that’s been told he can’t have the last popsicle.

Briar regards him fondly and can’t help but reach across the table to ruffle his hair. They take his sunglasses when they withdraw and avoid his reaching hands with a victorious smirk. He could easily take them back with his speed but instead he simply pouts as they set them off to the side.

“Mammon.” Their eyes meet without the pane of tinted glass in the way and Briar does their best to look reassuring. “I’m more than willing to cuddle with you. As for shacking up, well,” they smirk, unable to resist teasing him. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that, either.”

The effect is immediate. He sputters all over again and they laugh loud enough to draw a few eyes. By the time they’ve calmed down there are tears streaming down their cheeks and Mammon is looking particularly cross despite the smile on his face.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he sighs.

“Right back at you, Mr. Moneybags.”

* * *

They’re by the house gates when Mammon’s phone rings. His face twists when he pulls it out to answer and they know who it is before he can even say a word.

“Hello? Uh, yeah, I can—what, right now?” His eyes meet Briar’s as his lips twist into a sullen frown. “Can’t it wait, I’m—”

The voice on the other end raises enough for Briar to almost make out the words and Mammon’s expression darkens even further.

“Fine, alright? I’ll be there soon.” He shoves his phone deep into his pocket. “I’ve gotta go. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

Briar touches a hand to his cheek. “It’s alright, I have to get my hair done, anyways. You can come to my room if you’re back before morning. I miss our sleepovers.”

He nods though he’s clearly far from happy. “Don’t get into any trouble, got it?”

They hold up their hand solemnly. “Scouts honor.”

It’s something he’s heard before and something they’ve explained but his nose still wrinkles at the words. “That doesn’t even mean anything,” he mutters before between one moment and the next he disappears.

Briar sighs as they stare at the vacant space before they push open the house gates and make their way up to the front door. They pop into the kitchen to grab a snack before dropping their stuff off in their room. They shrug their jacket off and undue the ribbon bound around their throat. The first few buttons on the top of their shirt follow before they deem themselves comfortable enough to go to Asmodeus’ room.

He answers on the first knock. “Darling, you came!” He grins and makes to grab at them before he pauses at the sight of the tray in their hands.

“I brought snacks,” they explained. “I figured this might take a while.”

It’s clear immediately that he’s taken that the wrong—or right—way as his eyebrows raise suggestively. “My, I like how you think. Come in then, dear, before someone else comes to sweep you away.”

“Mammon had to go to the human world,” Briar says because they know exactly who Asmodeus is referring to.

“I’m starting to think you’re teasing me,” Asmodeus muses as he closes the door behind them. “You’re alone, you’ve brought snacks, and no one is going to interrupt us? Color me excited.”

They can’t help but laugh even around the nerves threatening to clog their airways. Asmodeus’ room is exactly what they expected and yet somehow more. There’s a sweet scent in the air that seems to come from everywhere all at once; it’s subtle and not at all irritating to the nose. They breathe it in gladly as they take in the large bed, the billowy curtains and the series of mood lights strewn around the bed and scattered along the ceiling. They change colors gradually, shifting between each shade of the rainbow as they bob in midair.

There’s a room leading off to the side that they can see has clothes inside. They assume that’s where Asmodeus keeps his massive wardrobe.

“Do you like it?”

Briar startles and realizes that they’ve been staring for quite a while. “Yes—sorry.” They smile sheepishly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Nervous,” Asmodeus repeats. He reaches out for one of their hands and pushes them down gently onto a chaise lounge. It’s impossibly soft and a pale pink that matches the lightest flecks of his eyes. “Why would that be, I wonder?”

Briar sets the snacks down on the side table as Asmodeus takes the space beside them. “We just haven’t really spent time alone together, even with our pact. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

He’s leaning into their space with an intrigued look on his face before they can even prepare themselves. “You’re precious.” His hand lifts to push some of their hair back from their face. His touch lingers on their cheek and sends small shockwaves of sensation out over their skin.

“Is this you?” They blurt before they can help it. Their face immediately flushes scarlet and they duck their head with a soft curse. “Ignore that.”

His laughter is soft and not at all grating. It’s like a soothing balm on their mind and they relax into the sloping back of the chair. “I would never ignore your words, that’s simply rude. You’re quite resistant to my powers but my touch can be a bit overwhelming at first. Does it bother you?”

“No,” Briar admits, just as honest as before. They meet his eyes hesitantly. “I’ve just never been around someone like you before.”

“Well I should hope not.” He sniffs like a cat that’s been snubbed. “I’m the one and only avatar of lust. If there’s anyone else out there trying to take my place, I’ll have to show them my claws.”

That’s right, they’d all fought in the war. It was hard to image Asmodeus on the battlefield, and yet—it also wasn’t. He was intensely passionate, and Briar could see how that could channel into a fight, especially if someone was threatening what was his.

“You’ve got that look on your face again. Am I boring you?”

 _That_ startles a laugh out of them. “I don’t think you could bore me even if you tried,” they reassure. “I was just trying to imagine you in the war. You do better than most at disguising how deadly you can be.”

He beams as if they’ve paid him the highest compliment. “I can be quite mean when I want to be, it’s true. I haven’t fought on that level in _ages_ , though.” He leans closer, until they’re sharing the same air. “Why would I when I can just charm my way into what I want?”

Briar stares into his eyes for a few long moments. Their pulse is racing fast enough that they’re sure Asmodeus can hear. They have no doubt that he can smell their lust too and that only serves to send a blush sweeping down their neck to the top of their chest. He’s said that they’re immune to his eyes but it’s hard to tell the difference between their own want and his very presence.

They ache to kiss him and yet—

He pulls away with a small frown. “You’re interesting. Are all humans so defiant about their wants?”

Briar closes their eyes and takes a deep breath. There’s disappointment in the air and before they know it, they’re reaching out for Asmodeus’ hand. Their eyes meet once more as what feels like lightning goes down Briar’s spine.

There’s an image of what could have been their face, a sense of instincts held back and then— _desirehungerbeautyclaimwant **claim**_ —

Asmodeus withdrew as if he’d been slapped. Briar sank back against the chair immediately and heaved for air like someone who had been close to drowning.

“What—” their voice was raw, and their hands shook when they stared at them. “What _was_ that? It keeps happening and I—” they took another gasping breath and felt tears sting their eyes. They tried to rein themselves in, to calm down and _think_ but it was as if all their defenses had been shattered. “I don’t know what to do, everything is so _loud,_ and it never stops—everyone is always so bright, and the projections hurt—I can never turn it down or ignore it, it prevents me from sleeping and I can’t—”

“Shh, darling.” Asmodeus wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them into his chest. Worry is leaking out into the air, replacing his previous shock. It makes the tears come faster when it begins replacing the calm scent that had permeated the room when they’d first entered.

“I’m sorry—” Briar stutters. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t—”

“It’s alright.” They can tell that he’s infusing power into his voice and touch, but they don’t resist. His calm is welcome in the wake of the tidal wave that has rushed through the space where their shields once were. “You don’t have to apologize, I’m not upset. Just breathe now.”

They find themselves doing what he says, their body responding to the gentle persuasion where their mind does not. The knot in their chest loosens as oxygen begins to fill their lungs and they sniffle miserably.

“Now then,” he strokes their hair, touch light and soothing. “what is this about people being loud?”

Now that someone is asking it comes spilling out in a flood. They tell him about the way they can taste the emotion in the air; how they can see when an aura flares bright; how touch incites strange feedback sometimes. They tell him about Belphegor and how his presence helps, and that for once they hadn’t had a migraine, that they just wanted to be able to exist again without being in pain all the time, to be able to be close to people without shrinking away—

Briar reaches up to wipe the tears from their face only to be stopped by Asmodeus.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you rub at your eyes too much,” he says simply before scooping them up into his arms. They squeak when he stands, any words of protest fading when they enter a grand bathroom decked out in white and gold.

They’re lowered to sit down on the sink counter before he grabs some form of wet cloth to wipe at their face.

“Asmo,” Briar protests, already far too embarrassed. “you don’t have to do this; I know I’m all gross—”

“Nonsense, what kind of host would I be if I left someone as beautiful as you alone to clean up their tears?”

They took several tissues when he offered them and blew their nose sheepishly.

“Now then, I have some idea of what might be going on, but I need Solomon to confirm it.” He rests his hands on their knees, face gentle. “Would you like me to do your hair and doll you up a bit? I know when I’m upset it helps to look even more extraordinary than usual.”

They let out a wet laugh, unable to help it. “Okay,” they rasp. “if you want to.”

“If _you_ want to,” he corrects gently. “While I’d love to get my hands on you, I know that you’re upset. If this isn’t something you want, then tell me.”

The tension eases from their shoulders and they rest a hand over one of his own. “I want to,” Briar promises. “Today was a good day and I want—I want to feel nice for once instead of lying in bed and trying to block out everything trying to give me a migraine.”

“Nice?” He scoffs and pulls them off the counter to their feet. “You insult me. By the time I’m done with you you’ll look so mind-blowingly beautiful that you’ll be able to walk up to Lucifer and demand anything you want.”

Briar sputters as he leads them by the hand back to a vanity filled to the brim with all manner of beauty products. “I don’t—”

“Oh please, darling, I can tell when someone wants something. Not that I blame you.” His eyes are playfully wicked and the knowledge inside of them makes them squirm. “You could have them all, you know, if you wanted. You already have our pacts, but I know you want more.”

They blush again and they’re sure that their face is blotchy and hideous with it after all the crying. “One emotional crisis at a time,” they manage to get out.

“Have it your way. Just know that _I_ am more than willing.”

Briar wonders if the floor would open up beneath them if they asked nicely. Asmodeus laughs as if he can read their thoughts before he pulls some sort of cream out and begins to set in on their face. There is a multitude of moisturizers to combat the damage of their tears. Powders and creams they have no clue how to pronounce are smeared onto their face and blended in with gentle touches. While it all dries, he cuts their hair and curls it into loose waves.

The next round of beauty products involves what they assume is eyeshadow. They keep their eyes closed for the duration of it and only open when he takes a pen to their waterline. Their lips are the final step before he pulls them away to the closet.

“Am I to assume that the skirt means that you’re alright with more feminine clothing today?”

Briar feels their chest warm at the question. Explaining how gender worked for humans had been embarrassing but more than worth it. All of his brothers had worked to make sure that they made Briar comfortable. “Yes,” they smile. “it’s fine for today.”

He hums at that and turns back to rummaging around in the numerous racks. “Too sparkly, too long, too last year—” his muttering brings a smile to their face. It’s nice seeing Asmodeus in his element considering how little time they’ve spent together.

Briar’s fondness is already growing, and it’s only been a few hours. They look up when Asmodeus lets out a sound of triumph to see him holding a dress up victoriously.

“Alright, let’s get you into this.” He pauses in front of them as if realizing something suddenly. “Are you comfortable taking off your uniform? This dress is a little difficult to get into on your own.”

The thought is embarrassing but not horrible. It is more that Asmodeus is so beautiful that standing before him in their skin is sure to be a self-conscious experience. They stand without answering and begin to unbutton their shirt. Their skirt follows before they pause to find him staring. “Should I keep my bra on?”

His eyes are distant, and they still as he steps closer. They realize what he’s looking at when his hand lifts to trace the mark his pact has left on their skin. His symbol sits by their collarbone and stretches out over their left breast, close to their heart. “My mark looks good on you.”

Something sweet and mouthwatering begins to fill the air and their thighs press together before they can help it. They know that he notices but he is kind enough not to say anything.

“My bra?” They repeat.

“Oh yes.” He blinks as if coming out of a daze. “You won’t need one for this.”

Briar reaches around to unclasp their bra before they let it fall into the pile. They pause at their panties and raise an eyebrow.

“Those are fine, but I won’t complain if you want to take them off.”

Their eyes roll as their hands fall away, but they can’t deny the smile on their face. He unzips the garment bag that holds the dress and pulls out a gown that seems to catch even the faintest of light.

“Asmo—” their breath catches as they reach out to touch the fabric. “isn’t this a bit much? I’m not going anywhere other than dinner.”

“It’s never too much, dear. Besides, you’ll look positively radiant. They’ll all give you the attention you deserve as soon as you come down.”

The thought is both pleasing and embarrassing. All the praise is beginning to get to them, and they try not to cover their chest out of reflex. “You’ll dress up too, right?”

“If you want me to. Just this once though, I’ll let you steal the spotlight.” He winks before kneeling to help them step into the dress. The fabric is tight around their hips and they have to wiggle to get it up past their waist. Briar knows their measurements are different and yet somehow the dress closes around them like a second skin.

They hold their hair out of the way as he zips up the back. He steps back to admire the view before disappearing for a moment to grab a pair of heels. Briar stands almost as tall as him once they’re on which means Beelzebub will only slightly tower over them as the tallest.

“One last thing,” he says before he puts their hair up into an elegant twist and slides a jewel encrusted pin in to hold it. “Ready to see yourself?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” they admit.

He leads them back out into the room and stands them in front of a floor length mirror. When he tells them to open their eyes they do, and immediately blink furiously, as if the image in front of them is a mirage. They step closer to gape at the mirror, and only barely manage not to touch their face.

The person in front of them is—beautiful. Otherworldly. There’s no way it’s them—and yet.

That is their hair, their eyes, their body. Only _more_.

Briar steps even closer, until they’re inches from the mirror and allows themselves to take it all in. The majority of their hair is twisted elegantly around a pin that Mammon would probably drool over from solitary profit alone. A single crimson curl has been left out to frame their face which Asmodeus seems to have painted to perfection. There is not a single flaw to be seen in the eyeliner framing their eyes or the grey shadows he’s painted around them.

Their green iris’ look impossibly bright now, rimmed in white liner with lashes that nearly brush their cheeks every time they blink. It’s a color that one would expect to see on—a demon. The knowledge makes their head spin.

Mammon’s mark sits at the base of their neck and wraps around their shoulder. There’s no necklace to take away from his or Asmodeus’ mark, in fact, now that they’re looking it seems that Asmodeus has gone out of his way to showcase the marks rather than hide them away.

The neckline is sharp and stops inches away from their belly button. It shows the top of Beelzebub’s mark, which sits to the left of their stomach. Their arms are draped in long see-through sleeves whose gems do nothing to mask Leviathan’s mark on their right upper arm.

Satan’s mark is high up on their right hip and can be seen when they shift due to the slits in either side of the dress. Lucifer’s is just as high up, only on their left thigh. It sits more on the innermost part than the outer and the thought of it showing is embarrassing in itself.

Briar still isn’t sure if there’s any meanings to where the marks have manifested themselves but simply having a mark so close to their center is suggestive enough.

A turn reveals the deep scoop of the back that sits low enough on their hips that most of Belphegor’s mark is on display.

“Oh, they’ll want to eat you up,” Asmodeus says as if sensing their thoughts. His words are a purr and it’s clear when they turn around that he is more than effected by the sight of them. His eyes are dark and hungry, and their throat goes dry as the room fills with more of that mouthwatering scent.

“Solomon,” they gasp out before he can prowl closer. “You were going to call Solomon over, right?”

His face twists before he gives in with a soft huff and turns to fish his phone out. “A tease,” he mutters to himself. “putting even me to shame. It’s unsightly.”

Briar can’t help but feel bad. They’re not trying to lead him on, they would very much like to have a tumble in the sheets with their resident avatar of lust, the timing is simply off and their need to know what the hell is going on with them is too great. “Thank you, Asmo,” they say quietly. “I really appreciate this. I promise we can hang out more in the future.”

He pauses at that before the tension eases out of his shoulders. “I’d like that, darling. Now brace yourself, Solomon will be here any minute.”

Sure enough, moments after they’ve sat down Solomon appears in Asmodeus’ room, looking rather bemused. His eyes fall on Briar and widen in a rare show of surprise before he turns to shoot Asmodeus an almost judgmental stare.

“This isn’t a seduction!” Asmodeus pauses as his eyes flit between the two of them. “Although…”

“He dressed me up to make me feel better,” Briar says before Asmodeus can tempt them any further. “He thinks that you know something that can help me.”

Solomon’s expression smooths and he sits down on one of the armchairs. “Go on.”

Asmodeus takes the seat beside them and they let out a soft breath. “I’ve been seeing things in people, things I haven’t seen before. I can taste emotions in the air and sometimes when I touch someone—” they trail off, uncertain how to describe the feedback of images and emotions.

“I believe when you let them borrow your magic theirs awakened in the process,” Asmodeus cuts in. “everything they’ve told me and everything that I’ve experienced while they’re here makes me think that they’re an empath.”

“Empath,” Briar echoes hollowly. The word is familiar the way that fantasy is. Then again, magic and demons are real so it should come as no real surprise.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Solomon muses. “What are you sensing right now?”

“Mainly Asmodeus, his presence is all over this room. He keeps sending off waves of lust which are—” they shoot him an accusing look “—very distracting.”

He grins without an ounce of remorse and Briar turns their head before they can smile.

“The normal scent is calming but the lust is—” they fidget. “it’s sweet, I guess? Kind of mouthwatering, like when you think about something sour. Your mouth gets tingly and you’re torn between whether you want it or not.”

There is amusement in Solomon’s eyes but no judgement. “And what do you sense from me?”

“You’re like Belphegor,” they say after a thoughtful pause. “he has this fog around him that helps drown everything out. Except yours isn’t reaching out to make the world less bright, it’s keeping the world away from you.”

Asmodeus snickers and leans his cheek against their shoulder. “Looks like they got you, Solomon. You can’t hide from them.”

Solomon doesn’t look all that threatened. If anything, he looks fascinated. “Interesting,” he muses. “I agree that it sounds like you’re an empath. It would also explain why things have been so stressful for you. You see, empaths are rare. Their gifts vary but they all share a common theme.”

“The psyche,” Asmodeus supplies. “Emotions, feelings.”

“It seems that you’re able to discern what a person is feeling at any given moment. The brightness you’re seeing are what is essentially their essence. Touch transference isn’t uncommon either, which is why you’ve been getting feedback occasionally.” He stands abruptly. “I must confess that I’m not all that knowledgeable in this area of magic. However, I’m intrigued. I’ll dig around and come back with my findings.”

“Wait—” Briar reaches out, but he’s already gone. They sigh and rest their head against Asmodeus’. “I guess it’s a good thing we know what’s wrong with me now.”

He lifts his head to meet their eyes. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” he insists with a ferocity that nearly stings their skin. “You’re wonderful and these new abilities only make you even more so. This is exactly what I felt in you when you first drew out my power. It makes sense now how you could.”

“You’re not upset? I can tell what you’re feeling and sometimes I can even hear what you’re thinking. You don’t feel, I don’t know, _exposed_?”

“Being exposed is one of my favorite past times,” he purrs before fading into seriousness. “I won’t lie. While I’m okay with it some of the others might struggle.”

“Lucifer, you mean?” Briar smiles faintly. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” He squeezes their hand when he realizes he’s put their hair out of reach. “He’s fond of you though, and these powers give you an edge. He’ll get over it.”

“You’re talking like you think I should tell them tonight.”

“Well why not? You’re all dressed up for the occasion, it’s a perfect time for a coming out party!”

Briar frowns. “I don’t know, it seems a bit soon.”

“You’ve been dealing with this for weeks, darling, it’s not soon at all. The quicker you tell them the quicker they can make sure not to make it harder on you. Besides, you know Lucifer hates being kept out of the loop.”

They groan and resist the urge to flop down into a petulant pile. They don’t want to mess up all of Asmodeus’ hard work. “I guess. Can you at least ask them to transform so I’m not the only one that looks so dressed up?”

“You think our demon forms are fancy?”

“I mean, yeah.” They shoot him an unimpressed look. “You all wear those fancy outfits and your wings and horns give you this royal air.” They shrug and let out a soft sigh. “Blame it on my humanity, I grew up thinking you were all fantasy. When demons weren’t being made out into monsters they were being sexualized.”

“In other words, demons look sexy.” He was growing more delighted by the second and Briar groaned.

“I give up, just please ask them? It would sound weird coming from me.”

“Alright, dear, I’ll tell them.” He gave a pat to their arm before pulling out his phone once more. “I’m keeping that in mind for later, though.”

* * *

**Operation A Night to Remember**

**[Asmodeus] > Listen up! Demon forms are mandatory for tonight’s dinner and everyone _has_ to be there!**

**[Asmodeus] > Canceling is not allowed! That means you Levi!**

**[Leviathan] > But I just got a new game…**

**[Leviathan] > Why do we have to shift, anyways? It’s just dinner**

**[Satan] > I agree. Is there a reason other than your ideas of fun?**

**[Asmodeus] > As a matter of fact, it’s for Briar. They wanted me to ask because they were too shy .image.heartemoji.**

**[Leviathan] > .image.shockedface.**

**[Mammon] > WHAT DID DO TO BRIAR**

**[Mammon} > ANSWER ME YOU BASTARD**

**[Asmodeus] > Now now that’s not very nice, especially not when I went to all the effort of making you a present**

**[Belphegor] > Man how are you guys so loud even in text**

**[Beelzebub] > Is the present food**

**[Asmodeus] > In a manner of speaking**

**[Mammon] > SOMEONE GET BRIAR OUT OF HIS ROOM RIGHT NOW I’M ON MY WAY BACK**

**[Asmodeus] > Don’t you dare! It’ll ruin the surprise .emoji.glare.**

**[Lucifer] > This had better not cause a mess, Asmodeus.**

**[Asmodeus] > Just show up to dinner in your demon forms! I promise it’ll be worth it ** **😉**

**[Leviathan] > Is anyone else worried? .emoji.shockedface.**

**[Belphegor] > I’m going back to bed**

**[Mammon] > HEY **

**[Mammon] > DON’T IGNORE ME**

**[Mammon] > SOMEONE MAKE SURE BRIAR ISNT BEING SMOTHERED **

**[Satan] > You mean choked? **

**[Mammon] > .emoji.scream. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos! I appreciate you immensely
> 
> Next chapter will most definitely contain a lot of sexual frustration ;)


	3. Support System

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys really wanted to make this chapter into an orgy but I managed to rein them back (for now)

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Briar whispers as they hover by the stairs. They can hear the faint sound of voices from below, with the occasional rise in pitch from Mammon. “Maybe I should wait.”

Asmodeus places his hands on their shoulders and turns them to face him. “Nonsense, dear. You’ve been suffering on your own and it would reflect badly on us not only as house guests but as pact mates if we let you continue like this.”

Warmth spreads out from their chest. They don’t feel worthy of the care in his voice, or the affection that laces through his gleaming eyes. Their eyes drop as they fight to swallow around the rising lump in their throat. “Asmo,” Briar trails off, unsure of exactly what it is they want to say. They touch a hand to his wrist and hope that, somehow, he can feel just how grateful they are. “Thank you. Really.”

He smiles before leaning in to brush a kiss to the corner of their mouth. His lips trail down along their jaw and pause once they reach Briar’s ear. “It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, eliciting a shiver from them.

They’re flushed when he pulls back but even the victory on his face can’t make them scold him. “Promise to stay with me in case this goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” he says. “but yes.” He offers an arm and they slide their own into the offered space. “Now let’s go show you off. I’m excited to see you blow their minds twice in one night.”

They follow him carefully down the steps, wary of potentially stepping on their own skirt. The slits on either side of their thighs allow for a free range of movement which is a blessing in itself—if they ignore just how much of their skin is on display.

Dinner has been conducted in the grand hall instead of the dinning room, a touch that they’re sure Asmodeus had his hand in. The walk down the hall feels far too long and the hand on their own squeezes gently when their pulse rises.

“Breathe,” he reminds gently. “Everyone in that room cares for you and they’ve got no clue about what they’re about to see.” He grins then, unapologetically possessive as he pulls them closer to his side. “I’d be lying if I said that I’m not delighted to be the one to show you off.”

“Even though I’m a mess?”

“You’re not a mess. You’re a mage coming into their abilities and I’m the pact mate of your dreams, here to give you the coming out party you deserve.”

They laugh, unable to help it. The tension in their shoulders eases and they give a small nod. “Alright, I’m ready.”

The flow of voices is instantly louder as Asmodeus pushes open the doors. Briar is too busy gaping at what’s become of the grand hall to pay attention to what’s being said. There are glowing lights dancing across the ceiling. They bathe everything in a warm glow that only seems to enhance the way Briar’s dress attracts the light; it’s obviously intentional and they can’t help but send silent props to Asmodeus.

Small trays with food and drinks float around, carried by small devils that look adorably serious. There are plush couches that form a loose circle for sitting while ghosts drift along the rest of the room, attracted by the haunting music. The hall should feel empty with only eight of them inside but instead it feels cozy; a warm and intimate space full of the people they trust most.

They smile at the sight of their other demons, breathing coming easier. It’s easy to forget their worries around the brothers, the bonds of their pacts wash over them the closer they are, and it feels like coming home.

“Announcing our lovely human,” Asmodeus declares as if they haven’t already gotten all the attention. “The party has arrived.”

Briar is distinctly aware of the eyes on them and they falter on their way to the circle of couches. Their free hand moves to smooth their dress down self consciously only for Asmodeus to catch it in his own.

“You’re wonderful,” he reminds before pressing a kiss to the back of their hand. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through them and Briar hopes desperately that the others can’t sense the lust rising in them.

“Briar,” Mammon is the first to choke out, eyes wide and face flushed. He’s half sitting, half standing, as if unsure of what to do.

“Hi,” they say somewhat shyly. Their eyes flicker between Satan who looks rather impressed, Leviathan who is crimson and staring at the ground, Beelzebub who has a particularly intense look on his face, Belphegor whose sleepy gaze is appreciative, and Lucifer who looks—either extremely angry or extremely interested. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

They shift nervously, painfully aware of the way their dress parts around their legs to show off more skin. “Is it too much?” They finally blurt, embarrassment rising with every moment that the brothers are silent. “I told Asmo that it was, I should go change—”

There’s a rise in power as Asmodeus keeps them from running away. A pink aura surrounds him and they’re uncertain if they’re the only ones seeing it or not. There’s a sharp scent weaving into his normal calm and it’s both comforting and alarming all at the same time.

“While I would normally accept staring, you’re making them uncomfortable,” he practically hisses, his normal cheerful demeaner gone. “I did not spend all this time cheering them up only for you to ruin it with your horrible manners. **Speak**.”

“You look good,” Leviathan squeaks out. He peeks at them from behind his bangs, tail waving frantically.

Mammon is finally up and at their side. He bats Asmodeus away to one of the couches before taking their hands in his own. “I told ya to be careful,” he mutters gruffly, eyes flitting over their body. “Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Asmodeus was a perfect gentleman.” They smile gently and lift a hand to run through his messy hair. “I didn’t think you were going to make it back.”

“Yeah, well, I gave those hags what they wanted and then ditched.” He was staring at his mark as if it was the first time he’d seen it. There was something rising in the air; something smoky and rough that made them inhale deeply. It smelled good and they couldn’t resist stepping closer. “You look nice.”

Briar grins at his awkwardness and feels their nerves begin to ease. “Big praise from THE Mammon.”

His chin tilts up proudly though his usual flair is muted, his eyes glazed over with distraction. “Ya better appreciate it, I don’t give it to just anyone.”

“Stop hogging them,” Asmodeus complains. He pats the space beside him. “Come sit, darling. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

They squeeze Mammon’s hands before they take the offered seat. A glass of something bubbling and pink is grabbed off of a nearby tray and handed to them.

“Asmodeus has worked his normal charms,” Satan says from across the circle. He smirks slightly as his eyes linger on their exposed thigh, where his mark sits. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Beelzebub grabs an entire tray of food and proceeds to dig in, much to the frustration of the small devil that had been carrying it. He flies away in a flustered flurry to fetch more.

“I have something I want to tell you.” They take a sip of the drink in their hands and can’t help the widening of their eyes. Asmodeus laughs at their expression and leans back against the couch smugly.

“Good taste, right?”

Briar nods and lets the bubbles rush down their throat. It’s a bit dizzying when they breathe in, and they’re not sure if that’s nerves, the alcohol, or something else entirely.

“Is this about the headaches?” Belphegor says absently.

“Headaches?” Lucifer’s eyes are on them, intense as always. “What headaches?”

They shift nervously until Asmodeus places a hand on their exposed thigh. Mammon growls at him from the other side of them and tries to swat him off; Briar catches his hand and twines their fingers together instead. “For the past few weeks I’ve been having headaches, Belphie has been helping me.”

“Are you sick?” Beelzebub frowns over at them before he grabs another tray out of the air and thrusts it at them. “Eat.”

Affection warms their eyes as they accept the tray. “Thank you, Beel, but I don’t think food is the answer. It’s not just headaches.”

“Explain.”

Lucifer’s voice bookers no argument and so they don’t bother dancing around the truth. “I’ve been seeing things, feeling things, when around other people. Sometimes when I touch someone, I can feel what they feel. It’s distracting and difficult to be around. Belphie has been helping to block it all out.”

All eyes are on Belphegor who looks completely unapologetic and frankly very sleepy. “What?” He shrugs. “I helped them. Did you want me to turn them away?”

“A better question would be why you never said anything to anyone else,” Lucifer says with extremely thin patience.

“That’s my fault.” Briar lets out a shuddering breath. “I was—worried about what it would mean. I didn’t want anyone fussing over me if it was just a human thing. I mean, I _have_ been a bit stressed lately which can cause headaches.”

“It isn’t normal for stress to cause emotional transference,” Satan points out.

They sigh. “No, you’re right. I was just—scared.”

The words ring through the hall and everyone is silent. It feels like weakness and strength to admit it and Briar isn’t sure where to look.

“We know what’s been happening,” Asmodeus speaks up, drawing the attention away from them for a blessed moment. “Briar is a mage and an empath.”

“A what?!” Mammon demands.

“This is exactly like _‘Help—I’m Seeing Things and Think I’m Going Crazy, Am I Cursed or Just Really Tired’_.” Leviathan’s thumbs fly over the keyboard of his D.D.D. “Briar doesn’t look cursed or tired, though…”

“You really need to start watching better shows,” Satan mutters.

“Being tired can do all sorts of things to you,” Belphegor says solemnly.

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose. “ **Enough**. Briar, you should have told us when it started happening, what if it had been something life threatening? There are all sorts of dangers in Devildom for a human and you can’t afford this sort of behavior.”

Guilt sits hot in Briar’s stomach and makes the alcohol on their tongue turn sour. “I’m sorry,” they say softly. “I know I should have told you, but I can’t change the past. I thought I was going crazy in the beginning and I didn’t want to be sent away.”

“No one,” Mammon starts fiercely. “is sending you away.”

The growl in his voice is a surprise and everyone’s faces firm in agreement.

“You may be a normie but you’re ours,” Leviathan shrugs.

Embarrassingly, they feel tears wet their eyes.

“Oh no.” Asmodeus fans their face frantically and tips their chin up. “Stop making them cry!”

“What’s wrong?!” Mammon shakes at their shoulders and nearly causes Asmodeus to stab them in the eye with one of his claws. “Is it the empthy thing?”

“Empath, you moron.” Satan supplies helpfully.

“You guys—” Briar chokes around a sob and does their best to blink away the tears. “I just—I love you all, you know that?”

“That’s what this is about?!” Mammon glowers through his flushed cheeks. “You stupid human, you had me worried—”

“You’re so precious,” Asmodeus croons over him. He’s practically in their lap as he cradles their face in his hands.

“ **Enough** ,” Lucifer snarls.

They all still and Briar’s happy smile starts to wane. They meet Lucifer’s eyes over Asmodeus’ shoulder; whatever expression they wear seems to soften Lucifer’s anger.

“I will contact Diavolo about this turn of events and ensure that we are all well educated in regard to this manner.” He stands as if to leave and Briar nearly sends Asmodeus flying in their rush to scramble upright.

“Wait!”

He stills, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

They flush, aware that they probably look ridiculous. “I just—you don’t have to contact him _now_ , right? Asmo went to all the trouble of arranging this so won’t you stay?”

“Come on Lucifer,” Asmodeus giggles. “You really want to leave us all alone with them? Who knows what _fun_ you’ll miss?”

Lucifer’s jaw tenses before his eyes turn back to meet theirs. “Very well.” He sits back down and arranges his coat around his legs.

When they breathe in there’s something sharp in the air. They nearly reel back when they process it. It’s like a slap to the wrist and they’re not entirely sure what it means. They know what Lucifer’s anger feels like. This is something else entirely.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” The faintest of smirks curls the corners of his mouth. He looks powerful and domineering even with them standing tall before him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Something shivers deep in their stomach at the smoky purr that wraps around his voice. It’s so easy to get lost in his presence.

“No, I just—” They flush, aware that everyone can see the way it reaches all the way down to their chest.

“Sit down, darling.” Asmodeus pulls them back down onto the couch. “Eat and drink, it’s time to celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” They echo.

“Of course! We’ve discovered that you’re even more amazing than before.” He smirks then and leans in closer. “Not that you weren’t already. You’d have to be to have a pact with someone like me.”

“Back off,” Mammon hisses. His arm wraps around their waist and pulls them closer. Briar freezes when his skin brushes against the exposed skin of their back. He’s so warm against them, and he smells so good. They have to fight not to scoot even closer.

“Mammon is fighting Asmo for Briar ROFL.”

Satan sighs. “Do you really have to tell everyone that?”

“Duh.” Leviathan scowls at him. “I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand.”

Their bickering fades away as Briar begins to eat. The alcohol running through their veins makes them feel light, as if the bubbles themselves have found their way into their bloodstream. Their skin feels hyperaware of every touch and the smells around them are delicious. Everyone is so beautiful, their brightness toned down enough beneath the lights that its bearable to look at.

“We should dance,” they say as their eyes follow the ghosts that twirl across the floor.

Asmodeus looks delighted. “I agree! Shall we?”

“Why does Asmo get to hog them?” Leviathan mutters. “It’s not fair…”

Briar giggles and glances over at him. “I’ll dance with all of you,” they promise. “so don’t run away.”

“The only one runnin’ is goin’ to be you,” Mammon mutters under his breath. He quiets when Lucifer shoots him a sharp glare.

“I’ve read about empaths before,” Satan says as he watches Briar and Asmodeus laugh. They take turns spinning one another; Briar looks giddy with happiness even when they stumble over their own feet. “it’s not an easy ability to have. I’ll have to do more research.”

“What do you mean?” Beelzebub scrunches his nose up. “Are they in danger?”

“They could be.” Satan glances over at Lucifer. “You’re being especially quiet today. Jealous of Asmo?”

Lucifer scowls; he’s undaunted. “I’m merely thinking over the possible repercussions of this.”

“Briar is strong for a human,” Belphegor says around a yawn. “we’ll keep them from self-destructing.”

“They’re not going to explode like in _‘Magic Strikes Back—How My Husband Painted The Wall In His Guts.’_ ” Leviathan’s tail twitches anxiously. “…Right?”

“No one is going to explode on my watch,” Lucifer says sharply. “And keep that to yourself. Briar doesn’t need you putting stupid ideas in their head.”

“Shouldn’t they know the risks? You can’t just shield them from the world, it doesn’t work.” Satan crosses his arms, a familiar look of anger passing over his face. “Someone has to be honest with them if you won’t be.”

“You **dare** —”

“Lucifer!” Briar giggles as they pull Asmodeus along, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Your anger is so loud I can taste it from across the room. Dance with me! I like the other smell better.”

Asmodeus swipes a glass away from their reaching hands and gives them water instead. “You, my dear, are cut off. We don’t want you blacking out.”

“Trust you,” they say, unfazed; as if trust is just something you _give_ to demons. They hold their hand out towards Lucifer expectantly, head cocked cutely. “Please?”

He sighs heavily and stands to take their hand. “Very well.”

He allows them to drag him back into the center of the dance floor where they stop and blink at him as if seeing him for the first time. They seem unsure of what to do and he smirks. “Changed your mind?”

“No!” Briar frowns determinedly and makes a grab for his hand. He catches them instead and reels them in close. They stumble and fall against his chest, startled by the sudden movement. For once they’re close to eye level and they stare into the flecks of black that dust his red iris’.

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs.

“You’re pretty,” they counter, as if it’s an insult instead of a compliment.

A surprised chuckle leaves him and he adjusts their hands into a proper dancing grip. His gloves brush against the bare skin of their back and Briar wishes that he would take them off. They’ve never gotten to feel Lucifer’s bare skin before.

“Are you cold?”

They know he knows that they aren’t, and his teasing makes them squirm inside. “No, you’re warm.” They step in close after a twirl, skirts nearly baring everything to the world. “Why, are you worried?”

He doesn’t lose step at the question, but his eyebrow does quirk. “Who said I’m worried?”

“You can’t lie to me anymore,” Briar says stubbornly. “I can feel it. Is it because of me?”

“Yes.” He takes advantage of their surprise and pulls them into another spin. “I don’t like unknown variables. I’ll feel better once I’ve talked to Diavolo and gotten some sources and teachers.”

“Teachers,” they echo as if they hadn’t even considered honing their gifts. “You would do that?”

Lucifer’s expression gentles at the surprise in their eyes. “You’re our guest and a member of this household. You also have a pact bond with all of us. Your safety and health is a top priority.”

Briar smiles and leans in close to rest their cheek against his chest. “You’re sweet,” they murmur, as if he hasn’t stiffened in his own surprise. “thanks for taking care of me, Lucifer. I know it isn’t easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

They giggle and lift their head to press a kiss to his jaw. “No,” they murmur as that sharp scent fills the air once more. “I guess not.”

* * *

“Mammon calm down, you’re about to ruin the couch,” Asmodeus complains. “If you’re going to be a voyeur at least do it politely.”

“Why does Lucifer get kisses,” Leviathan mutters to himself, tail smacking against the couch angrily. “That’s not fair at all.”

“Can you blame me?” Mammon snaps even as his claws flex against the couch cushions. His greed is roiling beneath his skin, demanding that he whisk Briar away from the eyes and touch of his brothers. “You basically put a glowing neon sign on them that says ‘EAT ME’.”

Asmodeus sighs, eyelashes fluttering longingly. He rests his chin in a hand as his eyes glaze over. “I know, isn’t it wonderful? I bet they taste so sweet.”

Beelzebub’s stomach growls and Belphegor gives him a consoling pat. Mammon squints at all of them suspiciously. “ _No one_ is tasting anything because none of you are getting your grubby hands on Briar.”

“I dressed them up!” Asmodeus complains. “Why should you get to steal them away?”

“Keep arguing and you’ll give Briar a headache.” Belphegor doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he rests against Beelzebub’s shoulder. “Loud emotions get to them, remember?”

“Maybe I should invite them to play games, they said that they were stressed, and they always seem to feel better after slaughtering things.”

Mammon scowls. “No one wants to play games with you, Levi.”

“Briar does!” Levi snaps back, tail thrashing in anger. “At least I’m not fighting over them like a bunch of dogs after a bone!”

“Levi!” Briar hangs off of Lucifer’s arm as he escorts them back to the couches, face flushed and chest heaving slightly with effort. “it’s your turn!”

He stares at them in shock, anger momentarily forgotten. “You’re serious?”

A pout replaces their smile as they step closer. They reach for his hands and pull him upright. “Of course I’m serious, don’t give me that look. You need to have more confidence in yourself. And you!” They whirl and nearly fall over before Levi catches them in his arms. They pat his hand in thanks before pointing at Levi’s brothers. “Stop being so mean to each other! You’re brothers, start acting like it.”

Levi follows after them warily, hands outstretched in case of any other mishaps. “I can’t dance,” he reminds.

“Sure you can, you’ve played all those dating sims before.” They wrap their arms around his neck and step in close. “Just copy what your characters did.”

“That’s—” His cheeks flush. “I can’t do that! Especially not in front of the others!”

It takes a moment for Briar to catch on before they’re shaking with laughter. His expression turns horrified and then angry but they tighten their arms around him when he tries to leave. “No, don’t go, I’m sorry, I just—I’m not making fun of you.” Briar smiles reassuringly. “I meant the games with innocent school dances. Not the ones where dancing is an excuse to feel someone up.”

“Oh.” His head ducks sheepishly. “I told you I’m not good at this.”

“If you want to feel me up during a dance we’ll have to enlist Asmo’s help, I’m sure he could bring us to a club or something.” They grin when he stutters all over again and encourage his tail to wrap around the back of their thighs, keeping them close. “Unless you think Ruri-chan would be jealous.”

He squirms, unable to help it. “She would understand.”

“How considerate.” Briar meets his eyes. “You think she’d mind if I kissed you, too?”

No words come to his lips, so he simply shakes his head in response. There’s no way they’re serious, and yet they’re leaning in closer, eyelashes fluttering as they tilt their head to the side—he freezes when their lips meet, stiff and unresponsive for a few long moments as he tries to process if what he’s experiencing is real.

“Kiss them back, you moron!” Asmodeus shouts from across the room.

Briar laughs against his mouth. Leviathan growls, finally able to move once more. Their laughter fades into a gasp as he pulls them in closer, tail winding around their waist. His lips are greedy against their own now that he’s sure that he’s allowed to do what he’s doing. They’re gasping by the end of it, lungs unable to keep up with his own demon ones.

“That was unexpected,” they breathe. “Good, but unexpected.”

His head dips shyly. “Yeah?”

Briar grins. “Yeah, definitely. We should do it again sometime.”

They’re not ashamed when they return to the couches to grab Satan. He follows diligently, ever the gentleman.

“Do I get a kiss as well?” He teases lightly as they fall into step. His thumb sweeps a warm line across the dip of their back.

Briar grins and squeezes his hand. “Maybe if you ask nicely. And tell me why you’re worried too.”

That startles him if the blink he gives is any indication. In the beginning Satan had been hard to read, an endless shift of masks to disguise the anger hiding inside of him. They’d learned to look closely for the little ticks that gave him away. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Believe me, I know.” They step in close, until his warmth is plastered against their front. “I’ll be alright, I have all of you looking out for me, after all. Between the seven of you I almost feel bad for the poor bastard that tries to get to me.”

“Even if that bastard is yourself?”

Briar pauses at that. They suppose that he’s right; everything is riding on their ability to control their newfound gifts. “I’ve spent my entire life feeling things harder than most people. I was alone for so long, sometimes it took everything I had just to keep breathing.” Their smile was sad when they met his eyes. “But I’m not alone anymore. I don’t have to rely on only myself to keep going, I have people I can talk to, people who understand.”

“You—” He shakes his head, cheeks flushed ever so faintly. “You really have that much faith in us?”

“Satan, I trust you all with my life.” Their eyes are clear, sincerity dripping from their skin and sinking down into his veins in the spots that their skin touches. It’s involuntary but not dangerous, so Briar doesn’t try to stop it. “If you told me that the only way to come out of this alive was to jump off a cliff, I would do it. I would curse you the entire time, of course, but still, the point stands.”

They’re not dancing anymore. They stand toe to toe, still in position but with no movement other than the rise and fall of their chests. There’s wonder and awe on his face, hidden away from his brothers who face his back.

“You really are something else.” He lifts Briar’s hand up to his lips and kisses the pulse point of their wrist. “Thank you.”

They lift their head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth in return. “No, thank _you_.”

They head back to the couches when it’s clear that Satan is too lost in thought to pay attention to moving his body. Lucifer shoots him a questioning look and earns a shrug.

Belphegor opens an eye to squint at Briar when the click of their heels approaches. “No.”

They huff and place their hands on their hips. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” He gives a lazy stretch and sinks deeper into the couch. “I’ll take my dance in the form of cuddles.”

“That’s not a dance at all!”

“Exactly.”

Briar fights the urge to whine like a child and shoots Beelzebub a pleading look. He stuffs the last sandwich on his plate into his mouth and wraps an arm around his brother. Belphegor yelps as he’s lifted off the couch, hands shooting up to brace himself on Beelzebub’s shoulder. “Beel!”

“If you won’t stand, I’ll just carry you,” Beel says, completely unfazed. He offers his free hand to Briar who takes it with a laugh and follows him out to the dance floor.

Belphegor groans and goes limp, arms dangling down over Beelzebub’s back. Beelzebub adjusts his grip before he pauses. He raises an eyebrow in question and makes a scooping motion; Briar’s grin widens, and they jump into his embrace gladly.

“You’re too strong for your own good,” they laugh as he simultaneously holds them and does his own steps of the dance. Belphegor is smiling slightly when they meet his eyes over Beelzebub’s shoulder. They reach over to twine their hands together, both to steady themselves and out of the simple need for contact.

Of all the brothers it’s Beelzebub and Belphegor who have the most soothing presence. They’re in a bubble all their own, with Beelzebub’s single-minded hunger and Belphegor’s lazy haze.

Beelzebub spins quickly, earning a shriek of delight from Briar and a surprised sound from Belphegor. His tail wraps around Briar’s waist and loops back around Beelzebub’s to keep them all locked together. The fur that flares at the end tickles at Briar’s back, but they don’t try and push it away.

“You’re going to make them sick if you keep spinning,” Belphegor warns.

“Just a few more!” Briar pouts. “Please, Belphie?”

He sighs but doesn’t argue; Beelzebub laughs quietly beneath them. He spins obediently until Briar is crying mercy and carries them both back to the couches.

“I don’t want to get crumbs on you,” he says by simple explanation before depositing Briar in Mammon’s lap.

Mammon stutters and Briar blinks for a few long moments as their inebriated mind struggles to catch up with the turn of events.

“Hi,” they mumble as they curl up in his lap. “Do you want to dance?”

His hands flutter in the air over their body before he finally settles on fixing their skirt to keep them decent. “Shouldn’t you be payin’ more attention, wearin’ something like this?” He huffs and wraps his wings around them. “Do you even have energy for another dance?”

Briar considers that and finds their eyelids dragging. “I could, if you wanted to.” Their mouth opens in a yawn before they snuggle into his neck. “Do you?”

“This is fine,” Mammon answers gruffly. He shoots a glare at Asmodeus when he wiggles his eyebrows at the two of them. There are goosebumps rising on Briar’s legs now that they’ve stopped moving. “Are you cold?”

“Mm, a little.”

Lucifer stands with a sigh and pulls off his coat. It drops into Briar’s lap. “Keep it, you can return it to me tomorrow.”

Briar snuggles into the fabric with a content hum. “Thanks, Luci.”

Asmodeus snickers at the look on Lucifer’s face and examines the rest of his brothers. Leviathan was still hiding behind his phone, Belphegor was dozing, Beelzebub was eating, Satan had a complex look on his face, Mammon was muttering into Briar’s hair and Lucifer was looking a mix of fond exasperation.

A job well done, it seemed.

“While this didn’t end in the orgy I had hoped, I’d still call it a success.” He gave a long stretch that accentuated all his curves. “Then again, the night is still young.”

Mammon shoots him a glare when Briar gives a sleepy mumble. “The only thing Briar is doing is going to sleep. I’m taking them to their room.”

Asmodeus pouts but doesn’t try to stop him when Mammon stands.

“Mammon.” Lucifer frowns. “Notify me immediately if they show any signs of distress. Until we can get some insight into what’s going on, we need to take everything on as a possible danger.”

Mammon’s wings curl tighter around Briar. “I will.”

They watch him go before they all break apart at once.

“I’m just gonna go to my room,” Leviathan mumbles.

“I need to look at a few books—"

“I’ll notify Diavolo immediately.”

Asmodeus glances over at the remaining two. Beelzebub shrugs at him. “I’ll finish the food.”

Belphegor sighs and stands up. “I’m going back to bed. Hopefully Briar doesn’t wake up with a headache.”

“You’re all no fun,” Asmodeus pouts. “You’re getting boring in your old age.”

* * *

**Dream Team**

**[Asmodeus] > Have you found anything?**

**[Solomon] > There have been some promising texts, I’m following up on a few leads.**

**[Simeon] > I’m having several books delivered that should shed some light on Briar’s condition. We have a few journals detailing powers like theirs.**

**[Asmodeus] > I knew I could count on you boys! I’ll have to think of a proper reward for all your hard work… .emoji.wink.**

**[Solomon] > Please don’t.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to everyone who has commented here or on tumblr, I... love you  
> that is all


	4. A Home I've Always Known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still considered an essential employee since I work at a pet store which means I'm not sure how fast updates will be from now on. I've always had anxiety around people but now is especially hard rip
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been leaving lovely comments and support! It's definitely helping me to keep up my energy and writing <3 Stay safe out there!

Warmth is the first thing Briar registers when they begin to wake. Warmth and something constricting that tangles around their legs and bunches up by their chest. They groan and try to squirm the problem away to no avail. A flailing hand hits something solid beside them and they frown.

“Are you done?” Mammon says when their hand pats at his face. His voice is thick with sleep and it sends a silent thrill through them.

Briar opens their eyes to find him staring at them; his face is only inches away from their own. “Sorry,” they mumble around a yawn. Their mouth feels a bit like cotton and their skin feels sweaty but considering the drinks they’d had they count it as a win.

Their hands move to adjust the dress they never took off, fixing the fabric around their breasts and untangling their skirt. Mammon lets out a strange sound; they look up to find him looking away.

“Will you help unzip the back? It’s too low for me to reach.”

Mammon nods silently.

Briar turns and crawls over him to stand up. The rug beneath their feet is soft. His hands fumble with the zipper and paint warm lines over their skin as he drags it down. Their hands lift to undo the clasp at the back of their neck, leaving nothing to hold the dress up anymore. It slides to the floor to pool around their feet.

“Wait!”

Mammon’s hands are on their hips, keeping them from turning around. “Don’t you want to change?”

“Not really.” Briar shrugs and gives a slow stretch; he makes a choked noise. “You’re warm and I don’t wanna be constricted again so soon.”

His grip loosens but silence rings throughout the room.

“Mammon?” This time when they turn, he doesn’t try to stop them. His cheeks are flushed, eyes flitting off to the side as if afraid that he’ll be scolded.

“Mammon,” they say again, gentler this time. Their hand lifts to cup his cheek. “Look at me.”

His eyes meet their own, wide and unsure.

“I wouldn’t have stripped in front of you if I wasn’t comfortable with it.” Their thumb runs over his cheek. “I’m not going to yell at you.”

He scoffs weakly. “As if a human could yell at THE Mammon.” Despite the words he nuzzles into their palm like a touch starved puppy. It breaks their heart a little bit.

Briar climbs up onto the bed to straddle him before they wrap their arms around his neck. He’s stiff for a few long moments, hands hovering over their back before he finally wraps them up in his arms. Briar lets out a content sound and lets their weight rest heavier against his chest.

His confusion is slightly sour against the rising hope in the air. Hope is airy and light; like whipped cream and ice cream sundaes. Underneath it all is that smoky scent they’d smelt the night before.

“You smell like s’mores,” Briar says into his neck. “You think Beel will make some for breakfast if I ask nicely?”

“It’s more whether Lucifer will let him or not.” Mammon runs his hand down their back and earns a shiver. He stops immediately. “Are you cold?”

“No.” They squirm closer to rub their cheek against his neck, nose chasing after the mouthwatering scents filling the air. “It just feels nice.”

“Briar—” His hands flex against their skin. “What are you doing?”

They hum thoughtfully. What _are_ they doing? Normally they wouldn’t be so bold, but normally they wouldn’t be able to sense the emotions in the air. They’d doubt themselves and back off with the promise to try another day.

Briar is tired of making empty promises.

“I like you,” they confess. “I have since you decided to take care of me, even though Lucifer forced you in the beginning. You’re kind and sweet and you always make sure that I’m safe.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

Briar pushes on before he can argue alternative adjectives. “When I saw the way your brothers treated you I just wanted to protect you the way that you protect me. You’ve stood by my side this entire time and I want you to know how much I appreciate it—you.”

Briar pulls back to meet his eyes; his face is flushed crimson, mouth hanging open in shock. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice in choosing me, but I want you to know that I would choose you all over again if I could.”

That seems to pull him out of his stupor. His brows furrow and he shoots them a stubborn glare. “Shut up.”

“What—”

“I said shut up!” His hand lifts to curl into their loose hair, pulling them even closer. “Yeah, I was pissed when Lucifer sacked me with babysittin’ duty, but you don’t got to apologize for him. I’m—glad I’m your first man.”

Briar smiles. “Yeah? You’d still choose to make a pact with me even without blackmail?”

Mammon scoffs. “Listen here and listen good—and know that if you tell anyone what I’m about to say I’ll make sure you’re sorry.” When they hold their hands up in agreement his eyes light up with an animal ferocity. “You’re _my_ human and I wouldn’t go back and change a thing. I like being your first and I’ll fight anyone who tries to take that spot.”

“Even Lucifer?”

He glowers. “Even Lucifer.”

Their heart warms, stupidly touched by those two words. Briar leans closer, until their noses are almost touching. “Kiss me?”

His breath warms their lips when he exhales. His fingers curl into the hair at the back of their head, directing the tilt and press of their lips. Kissing Mammon is safe and warm and everything they’ve imagined it to be. There are marshmallows in their nose and smoke on their tongue as their hands slide down over his shoulders. A broken off noise escapes his lips when they sweep their fingertips over the spot where his wings would be and then the kiss isn’t all that safe anymore.

His grip tightens in their hair as he reels them in closer, kisses growing heated. The slow slide of their lips increases to a hungry contact that leaves Briar gasping for air. They moan when one of his fangs drags across their bottom lip, hips pushing down into his growing arousal.

They’re both in nothing but their bottoms, Briar with their panties and Mammon with his jeans slung low on his hips.

“Mammon,” Briar gasps when he breaks away to kiss a line down their throat. He pauses at his mark and pays special attention to the lines of ink; it sends something like electricity through them and they keen. It’s a pleasure like nothing they’ve felt before. They squirm in his lap, thighs squeezing together restlessly.

“You don’t know how temptin’ you are,” he breathes into the arch of their throat. His teeth graze their skin but they’re not afraid; they’re never afraid when they’re around Mammon. “Do you know how hard it is to hold myself back around you? I’m the avatar of _greed_ , I don’t just wait to take what I want. And then there’s you. You _kill_ me.”

His hand drops to their ass and squeezes. They whimper high in their throat and tug at his hair. “You don’t have to hold yourself back anymore,” they say like a promise. “be as greedy as you want, I’m yours.”

Mammon curses wildly. He twists and between one moment and the next they’re on their back on the bed with Mammon hovering over them. His eyes are something else; dark and feral with the wicked look of a cat that knows it’s caught its prey. “You might regret that, sweetheart.” His smile is all teeth; sheepishly they note the heat that pools in their belly. “Greed only grows once you’ve entertained it.”

“Good.” They wrap a leg around his hip and grind down onto his arousal. “Let your greed grow, don’t let it ever stop. I want you—forever.”

A snarl echoes through the room before he’s marking their skin with tongue and teeth. They cry out under the attention, fingers carding through his hair in encouragement. He catches their leg and pulls it off his hip to pin it to the mattress instead. Briar moans when he pushes a thigh up between their legs and grinds down into the contact unashamedly. They’re soaking through their panties and surely leaving a wet spot on his jeans, but they can’t bring it in themself to care; they blame it on Mammon’s influence.

“Please,” they gasp when his mouth reaches their hips. His hands are warm as they trail down Briar’s sides to pin them in place. “Please, please, please—”

“You’re already this desperate?” He hooks a claw under the fabric that hides away their sex; it tears and falls away. His eyes sweep over the slick that’s beginning to leak down their thighs, a pleased purr rumbling up from his throat.

“Mammon!” Briar squirms restlessly, body aching for more. “Touch me!”

“I’m appreciating the view,” he drawls, any sign of embarrassment long gone. It’s clear that he’s given in under their coaxing. A finger dips down to brush over their clit; he laughs when their hips try to buck. “I’m going to _ruin you_.”

Their mouth opens to demand that he get on with it when he dips his head to do just that. The first swipe of his tongue makes them shout; body already far too sensitive to his every touch. They feel like they’re floating, thoughts going hazy as he works their body like it’s his own.

“Mine,” he says into the skin of their thigh, as if reading their thoughts.

“Yours,” Briar moans.

His fingers dip into their heat and curl as his tongue works against their clit. He has their thighs quivering in mere minutes, orgasm winding tight around the base of their spine. He purrs when they tug at his hair and that’s all Briar can take. They cum with a broken off whimper, eyes rolling into the back of their head.

He’s still going when they come back to awareness and they push at his shoulder weakly. He ignores them until they’re squirming from oversensitivity before surfacing with a pleased grin.

“Told ya,” he begins to brag; they reel him in for a desperate kiss, uncaring of the slick that still wets his face. He lets out a surprised sound, thumb rubbing circles into the skin of their inner thigh.

“Mammon,” they pant, hands tugging at him restlessly. “Get inside me, please.”

That’s enough to get him moving again, jeans thrown to the floor in a careless heap before he’s on them again. There isn’t a moment where his mouth isn’t either kissing them senseless or painting their skin in more bruises. His hands catch the back of their thighs and drag them down onto his lap.

“Okay?”

Briar shoves their hips down when the head of his cock presses against their heat. “ _Fuck_ me.”

They swallow his breathless laugh before he pushes his hips forward. He’s long and slender like the rest of him and curved just enough to make them shake with every roll of his hips. His claws dig into the mattress on either side of them, mouth parted to pant with the effort of holding back.

“Mammon,” they moan. “give it to me.”

He does.

It doesn’t take long for them to be clawing at his back and shoulders, thighs hooked into the crook of his elbows as he pushes impossibly deep. They feel like they’re drowning, head dizzy with the sensations assaulting their senses. They breathe in wood smoke and marshmallows and exhale desire; it’s a bit like being drunk all over again, their own pleasure echoed and amplified in every place they touch.

They can feel Mammon’s orgasm in the air; their hips fuck down into his thrusts in response, practically demanding he give them all of him.

“Briar—” He gasps, teeth caught on his bottom lip as his eyelashes flutter. He’s gorgeous, Briar thinks. Gorgeous and strong and all theirs.

They must say that out loud if the way his eyes widen is any indicator. He whines and hunches over them. His hips speed as his cock twitches. The sheets rip by Briar’s ears but they’re too busy screaming as his teeth sink into the skin over his mark.

Their vision goes white and then black as they cum hard, body locking up as he spills deep into their heat. They must pass out for a few long seconds because the next thing they know Mammon is smoothing back their hair and pressing a kiss to their forehead.

“Wow,” Briar pants, chest still heaving with exertion.

Mammon laughs, beyond smug. “I warned ya.”

It’s their turn to laugh. They roll onto their side with some effort to smile up at him. Their chest is light, champagne bubbles on their tongue and happiness in their blood. “I love you,” they murmur.

His cheeks flush, eyes widening in something like awe before he ducks his head to hide in their shoulder. “I love you too,” he mumbles, soft and sweet.

“Even though I’m a human?”

“Yeah,” Mammon says. “You’re _my_ human, after all.”

Briar closes their eyes with a smile. They bask in the emotions that hang around the room like fog. Nothing has ever felt safer or made them feel more loved. Mammon is everywhere, a steady presence in and around their body. Their pact bond hums contently between them, stronger than ever. It radiates warmth out from Briar’s very core; they wonder if demons feel it the same way that humans do.

“Hey, Mammon? What does the bond feel like to you?”

He stirs with a sleepy hum. His mouth opens in a yawn and the sight of his fangs poking out from between his lips is too cute for Briar to handle so early in the morning. “The bond?” He echoes, his thoughts clearly still on half speed. “S’ like—bein’ hugged, I guess. My other pacts aren’t like ours. They’re a thorn in my side. Kind of like if someone pinched you; the more you resist the harder it gets until you’re forced to give in before they rip the skin from your bones.”

And isn’t that just horrifying?

Briar shifts to hover over him. Their hand smooths across his cheek; he nuzzles into the contact with a soft purr and their heart aches. “It hurts you that much?”

Mammon shrugs. “There’s a reason I give in. None of the others have ever been in a pact before except for Asmo, let alone one that ya never wanted in the first place. It ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

“No one’s ever tried to help?”

“Nah, Lucifer thinks I deserve the punishment. The others just think it’s funny.”

Briar frowns and makes a note to have a talk with the household about Mammon’s situation. It’s been something they’ve been chipping away at for a while now. Honestly, even though they’re all brothers their relationships could never be more dysfunctional. It gives Briar a headache most days just thinking about it. It doesn’t help that most of the time none of them think anything is wrong with the way they treat one another.

“That isn’t right.”

That bashful look that he always gets when someone does or says anything even remotely kind to him surfaces. His head ducks and his eyes flick away even as his arms tighten around their waist. “It is what it is. Besides, our bond ain’t like that. I _want_ to be connected to you.”

Briar traces a finger over the slope of his cheekbone. “I’m glad. I don’t want to cause you pain.”

He squirms as if they’ve just showered him in a thousand compliments all at once. They suppose that for Mammon an intent to do nothing but pleasure might as well be one.

Their heart aches all over again.

“I feel you through it, even when you’re not around. When you are, it’s like there’s this—bubble between us and the world. Everything is consumed by your presence and I can get a better read on what’s going on with you.” Briar presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I can tell you’re happy right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mammon’s nose wrinkles as he pulls them down into a real kiss. “You plannin’ on drownin’ me in all your human sap?”

“Maybe.” Briar’s hands ran over the panes of his chest, touch light and barely there. “I wanted to talk about something else, though, before someone comes barging in.”

It was the general expectation when it came to living with the others. Eventually you would be interrupted.

“Shoot.”

They pause, uncertainty filling what little space was left in their chest. Happiness has taken up most of the room, but anxiety is always a bitch; it manages to worm its way into anything and everything. Unlike Mammon’s feelings for them they don’t know what his response will be to the feelings they hold for his brothers. They don’t ever want to lead him on or hurt him unintentionally by leaving something so important unsaid.

Mammon can be painfully dense at times and Briar isn’t good at keeping their heart hidden from the ones they’ve let inside.

“Come on, spit it out before you give yourself a headache.” Mammon twists them so that Briar’s on their back. He cages them in, but somehow it doesn’t feel like confinement, even now. It just feels safe. “You’re not gonna tell me you regret it, right?”

“What?” Briar’s eyes shoot up to his only to find that he won’t look at them. “No! Not even close!”

They reach up to cup their face in his own and pull him down into a gentle kiss. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Mammon, the last thing I’m going to do is regret it. I just—I don’t want my feelings to hurt you.”

He’s silent for a few long moments. “You’re talkin’ about the others, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“My brothers. You love them too.”

Briar’s heart pounds in their chest, eyes wide. Of all the times for Mammon to actually pay attention to what’s going on outside his own relationships. “You—know?”

“It’s kind of obvious, even to me. You’re always touchin’ everyone and makin’ sure they know you care.” He shrugs. “I’m the avatar of greed, I’ve thought about the idea of sharin’ a lot. It’s not in my nature but I—I want you to be happy, Briar. Besides, I guess if you’re gonna be with anyone I’d rather it be with my asshole brothers.”

“You’ve thought about it a lot,” Briar echoes dumbly.

They feel like the bed has dropped out from underneath them. Of all the scenarios they’ve considered, Mammon being five steps ahead was never one of them. They don’t know whether to be ashamed at having underestimated him, or relieved that he’s exceeded expectations.

“You know that it doesn’t mean I love you any less, right? I don’t love them because you’re not enough, it’s not about that at all.” They can feel the tension leave his shoulders as he finally begins to relax again. As hard as Mammon tries to appear tough and put together, they know that he’s soft and painfully fragile when it comes to his heart. They do their best to handle it with care. “I love all of you equally, for your own individual reasons. I could never pick one over the other because you’re all important to me.”

His head dips to rest his forehead against their own. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” they breathe. 

A smile just for them crosses his lips, slow and sweet. It tastes like spun sugar when they kiss.

“Besides,” Briar adds, because he’s trying, and he deserves some credit. “you’re my first man. I could never start anything without going to you first.”

His eyes light up at the reminder that he’s the first to take them to bed, to confess, to lay claim to their heart. “Of course,” he says proudly. “it makes sense that you would come to the great Mammon first.”

They shove at his shoulder with a soft laugh. “Whatever you say, you dork. I’m going to text Beel and ask about the s’mores.”

He follows after them when they twist to reach for the nightstand. The kisses he presses into their shoulders are frankly, very distracting.

* * *

**Breakfast Hopes That Lucifer Won’t Crush Because He’s the Best**

**[Briar] > Hey Beel, you think I could place a special order? **

**[Asmodeus] > Mammon not enough to take care of your appetite? Come to my room and I’ll make up for his failure .emoji.blowkiss.**

* * *

Mammon bristles. “Hey! Tell that bastard that I didn’t fail anythin’!”

“You could tell him yourself.”

“I’m busy.” His words are mumbled into the back of their neck; they let out a soft gasp when his teeth scrape against his mark. Smugness leaks out into the air as they’re pulled back into his lap. “You smell good.”

“I smell like sex,” Briar says skeptically.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

* * *

**[Beelzebub] > What’s the order?**

**[Lucifer] > I see the early hour hasn’t stopped you from pandering.**

**[Briar] > Never! .emoji.evilface.**

**[Briar] > Mammon is angry at you, Asmo. I was thinking s’mores though**

**[Asmodeus] > Is that a no? ** **☹**

**[Lucifer] > S’mores aren’t a very healthy breakfast, especially for someone who’s been having headaches**

**[Briar] > Pleeeaaassseee, Lucifer? I made sure to keep your coat clean and everything! **

**[Lucifer] > What is that supposed to mean?**

**[Briar] > .emoji.sweat.**

**[Asmodeus] > Oh, Lucifer, don’t pretend not to know what happened last night. I barely stopped myself from joining in!**

**[Briar] > Thank you for that, it probably would have ruined the whole confession vibe.**

**[Lucifer] > Briar, did you have sex on my coat?**

**[Briar] > No! I specifically said that I kept it clean!**

**[Beelzebub] > Mammon finally stopped trying to deny his feelings? S’mores it is**

**[Briar] > You’re the best, Beel! .emoji.celebrate.**

**[Lucifer] > We will be discussing this further.**

**[Briar} > .emoji.scared. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will I ever be able to finish a chapter without a mildly amusing text? Probably not
> 
> Mammon is bby and I just want him to get the love and affection he deserves. All these boys need therapy Briar pls help them


	5. Decisions of the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still getting the hang of writing Lucifer but have some bonding moments between him and Briar

Despite the threat of Lucifer’s rage, when Mammon and Briar stumble into the dinning room in a fit of breathless laugher all Lucifer does is sigh. Briar is aware of the marks on their neck, left for all to see where the school uniform doesn’t cover. They take their usual seat beside Belphegor who takes one look at them and snorts.

“Sooooo,” Asmodeus drawls. “is my dress still in one piece?”

Briar doesn’t look up from the s’more they’re already heaping with chocolate. “You really think I would let it get ruined? I’m sure it cost more money than I could earn in a lifetime.”

“I don’t know whether to be disappointed or not.” He eyes Mammon skeptically. “You really didn’t tear it off of them?”

“Gross,” Levi mutters from across the table.

Briar scoots lower in their chair to kick at his ankle. When he looks up, ready for a fight, he meets their mischievous smile. His cheeks flush before he ducks his head back down.

“Can we not argue over my sex life?” They say over Mammon’s sputtered defense. “Be nice. It’s too early for your dysfunctional love.”

Lucifer clears his throat before anyone can protest _that_ particular wording. “Indeed. A peaceful meal would be nice.”

“A peaceful meal is a dream,” Satan sighs.

Briar accepts the chocolate Beel offers them and takes a special sort of pleasure in licking the melted bits off of their fingers—especially under Lucifer’s disapproving stare. “This is perfect, thank you, Beel.”

“Why s’mores?” Asmo asks curiously. “It’s a bit of an odd request.”

“Mammon tastes like marshmallows and smells like smoke.” They shrug. “It made me think of s’mores.”

Mammon flushes darkly beside them as all eyes swing to take him in. “I didn’t do nothin’, why are you all starin’?”

“You made him sound appetizing.” Levi’s nose wrinkles, mouth twisted in disgust. “That’s—”

“Nice,” Briar reminds with a pointed look.

His mouth closes.

The table descends into silence broken only by the shuffling of ingredients. Briar doesn’t know whether to be exasperated over the fact that they apparently have nothing kind to say. They sigh as they arrange their next s’more, happiness ebbing in the face of all that’s to come. There are their powers, school, and somehow breaching the topic of their feelings with all of the other brothers.

“Congratulations.” It’s Beel that says it, because of course it is. He’s smiling slightly, sweet and supportive as if he can tell just how much they need it. Maybe he can.

Briar stares at him with wide eyes for a few long moments before they shift in their seat. “Thank you,” they finally mumble. They try desperately to ignore the emotion sitting tight in the base of their throat and tell themselves that they don’t need to hear it from the rest.

Some unspoken word passes over the table before Asmo lifts his glass. “To your bad tastes,” he declares cheerfully. “I can’t say that I’m not disappointed.”

“It ain’t like that,” Mammon scowls.

They can feel hesitance dragging along behind the words and they reach over to squeeze his thigh. “We’re in an open relationship,” they say to their plate, nerves skyrocketing.

Belphie leans against their shoulder with a soft sound and closes his eyes. “Looks like we’ve still got a chance then.”

Briar wonders if he’s aware that he’s said that out loud. They can’t feel any ill intentions coming from him, only sleepy reassurance.

They lean their head against his, grateful for the calm he exudes. It eases their racing heart if only just.

The rest of their meal is finished in relative quiet as everyone prepares for the day. They break apart one by one until Briar stands with a stretch and fetches Lucifer’s coat from their bag. Mammon and Beel exit with a look from their brother, leaving the two of them alone.

Briar holds out the coat reluctantly. It’s incredibly comfortable and still smells like Lucifer. They curse themselves for getting attached. “Clean, as promised.”

He takes it from their hands and smooths out the fabric. His gaze is unreadable as he looks it over before finally folding it over his arm. “I suppose I’ll let it slide, just this once. We have other matters to attend to, anyways.”

“We do?”

“Diavolo wants to speak with you. We must outline the future in the face of these new abilities.”

Briar feels panic spark in their chest. “He’s not—going to send me back, right?”

Lucifer pauses to stare at them. His lips drag downwards into a frown before he reaches out to rest a hand on their shoulder. “Your place in the exchange program is yours, it would take something like treason to cause an expulsion.”

_And my place here,_ Briar wants to say. _How long does that last?_

“Treason, huh?” They snort. “As if.”

He takes the lead as he steps out of the dining room and they fall into step beside him. “It’s a relief to hear you treat the idea with such derision,” he says dryly. “Diavolo is rather fond of you, after all.”

“And you?” Briar blurts before they can stop it. They duck their head to avoid his gaze. “Are you—fond of me?”

His voice is soft when he speaks, his body a steadfast pillar of strength beside them; Briar has to fight not to lean into it. “I wouldn’t have made a pact with you if I wasn’t.”

They let out a breath they hadn’t known they were holding. Tension eases out of their shoulders as they dare a glance up at him. He quirks an eyebrow; they smile.

“I’m fond of you too.”

The faintest dust of pink colors his cheeks and they take the small victory for what it is.

* * *

Barbatos meets them at the castle gates and lets them in with a small bow. He’s as immaculate as ever but something about him keeps Briar’s eyes trained on his back. His presence is a nagging thought at the back of their mind; a word on their tongue dangling just out of reach. It’s not bad per se, just strange.

Barbatos pushes open a wide set of doors and Briar follows Lucifer into Diavolo’s office. They’d been there before, briefly, during their first few days in the Devildom. It’s still as large and fanciful as it was the first time, with dark polished wood and red and gold embellishments.

“Lucifer, Briar!” Diavolo stands and holds his arms out warmly. Briar’s always had to resist taking it up as an invitation for a hug; they’re sure that Diavolo’s embrace might even rival Beel’s. “I’m glad you could make it. Barbatos made cookies and tea for us.”

Briar takes a seat beside Lucifer, who sits beside Diavolo around the round table they’re led to. Barbatos pours them all out a cup of tea and reveals a tray full of dusted cigar cookies. They can’t help but stare when he takes the last seat beside them. They aren’t sure that they’ve ever seen Barbatos actually sit before.

It’s harder to ignore his presence when he’s so close. Diavolo’s words filter out as they try to put a name to the aura Barbatos’ exudes.

“Briar?”

Briar snaps to attention at the sound of their name. They stare at their hand, which is now inches away from touching Barbatos’ cheek and then at Barbatos himself. “I’m sorry,” they hurry to say as their hand drops back into their lap. They clutch at it with their other as if it’ll do it all over again if they don’t. “I’m not sure what got into me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Barbatos says in his usual serene manner. Not for the first time they wonder what it would take to get him to break the façade. “Truthfully, I expected it.”

Diavolo smiles when they look around in bewilderment. “You’re aware of Barbatos’ powers, I’m sure that in your new heightened state it draws you.”

Briar frowns as they consider that. “I do feel something different,” they admit. “it’s hard to focus on anything else.”

“That’s a good sign. It looks like Barbatos will be one of your tutors, after all.”

Their mouth drops open.

“Excuse me?” Lucifer says for them. “Are you sure that’s wise? Barbatos’ powers are far beyond mere empathy.”

Diavolo takes a sip of tea, ever the air of nonchalance. “Barbatos researched this particular manner. We either embrace these new gifts fully and tutor them, or we let them self-destruct.”

A thundercloud passes over Lucifer’s face.

Briar raises their hand weakly. “I vote for tutoring.”

“Barbatos has the most control I’ve ever seen, he’ll do well in helping Briar learn their limits. Due to my own resilience with mental shields, I will also be conducting lessons. I’ve also talked to several of the professors at RAD and shifted Briar’s schedule to include the practice of magic in their studies.” Diavolo smiles first at Lucifer and then at Briar. His attention is warm, like always, only dialed up to one hundred. “You’ll be in classes with Solomon.”

“Isn’t Solomon way ahead of me?” Briar frowns. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to catch up that fast.”

“He volunteered himself to be your study partner. He said something about Asmo enlisting his help.” Diavolo dusts off a bit of cookie from his fingers. “Simeon will also be involved.”

Their head spins, unable to keep up. So many powerful individuals, and among them the future king himself. Briar can’t help the doubt that surfaces in their chest. “I—need some air.” They push away from the table, unable to think under the weight of all their stares. They rush out of the room and flee towards the wing of the castle that they know. It’s relatively empty, with the occasional ghost that passes by. They push open the door to the room they’d stayed in with Asmo and Simeon and step out onto the balcony.

It takes a while to feel like they can breathe again and even then, they can’t help the tremble in their hands.

They don’t feel worthy and above all the fear of being a disappointment threatens to crush them.

The soft sound of footsteps eventually sound from behind them before their owner joins them on the balcony. Briar knows who it is from the familiar aura alone, already in tune with their demons. “Lucifer,” they say tiredly. “I don’t think I can handle a lecture right now.”

He’s silent as he leans his elbows against the railing, a shadow at their side overlooking the gardens. “You’re afraid,” he murmurs. “even standing up against me didn’t make you cower. What’s different now?”

Briar lets out a humorless laugh. “What’s different is that this isn’t about anyone else, it’s about _me_. Standing up to you was easy when I had someone to protect. This—everyone is expecting me to be something great but what if I’m not? What if I’m just a nobody who was lucky enough to be swept away from their pathetic existence and into a fairytale?”

His wings materialize to settle over their shoulders. They breathe in his comforting scent and relax into his warmth.

“Only you would call being brought to Hell a fairytale.”

“ _That’s_ what you got out of that?”

“Briar,” he says, before they can work up any sort of real anger. “I want you to listen to me, without interruption. Can you do that?”

They nod.

His eyes shine with approval before he turns to look back out at the world. “When you were brought here you were a human with every right to be afraid, to want to go home. Most of my brothers have threatened harm to you in some shape or form, including myself. There are demons here that would kill you if given the chance and yet you’ve done nothing but embrace this world with open arms. You’ve cared for my brothers, for me, even after we were cruel. You haven’t tried to escape or go home. You’ve endured and made a place for yourself. Don’t you think that’s already amazing in itself?”

Their lips part but Briar can’t find any words. They never really thought that their life in the Devildom was impressive. They’d done what they’d had to too survive and caught feelings along the way. They’d always thought that anyone would do what they’d done if in their place.

“I don’t have a home to go back to,” they say quietly. It’s a secret they’ve been hiding from everyone, though they’re sure Diavolo knows. “What family I had left disowned me years ago. I’m—”

They shake their head, palms lifting to press into their eyes. A sob catches in their throat without their permission. “I’ve been so _happy_ here; I don’t want to mess this up like I always do. I’ve always been the fuck up and for once I’d just like to—to be someone the people I love can be proud of.”

Lucifer’s arms wrap around their shoulders and they move willingly to press their face into his chest. They shake with sobs as the fears they’ve been holding back for months break free from their chains. His chest rumbles beneath their cheek, a comforting purr that only makes them cry harder.

“You’re already someone we’re proud of.” His hand runs through their hair as his wings close them off from the world. “The ones who turned you away were fools. I’ll eviscerate them, if you like.”

Briar lets out a wheeze of a laugh.

“Your powers are new and frightening. I understand why you feel pressured, perhaps more than most. It’s important to remember that you’re not alone, though. The pacts on your skin are a reminder of that.”

That’s right, Lucifer had been the jewel of the heavens once. A leader, someone who was punished if out of line of what was expected of him. Briar wonders just how badly he’d needed to hear those same words back then and feels their chest pang in kinship.

“You’re not alone, either.” Their head lifts to meet his eyes. Their hands move with it to cup either side of his face in between their palms. His lips part in surprise as they blink the tears out of their vision. “I’m sorry no one told you that back then.”

There’s a flicker of white feathers behind their eyes, of an angel standing tall and proud before it’s gone in the next instant.

Lucifer catches their wrists in his hands and pulls their hands away. The sting of rejection is eased when he presses two careful kisses to their pulse points.

“You have my support, and those of my brothers. Your friends are willing to help as well and both Diavolo and Barbatos see a future where you go beyond your current successes. I can’t make the decision for you, but I can tell you that I believe you can do this.” 

Briar’s lip trembles. “Okay,” they whisper; their eyes close as several more tears streak down their face. “Okay.”

He pulls them in close once more and presses a kiss to the top of their head while they cry out what’s left in them.

* * *

Diavolo’s eyes are shadowed with worry when they return. Briar tries not to feel embarrassed over how they’re clutching at Lucifer’s hand like a child.

He squeezes their fingers as if reading their thoughts and deeming them worthless.

“I agree to the tutors, the classes and everything else you deem necessary.” They smile faintly. “I’m in your hands.”

“You won’t regret this,” Diavolo says sincerely.

They do their best to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still undecided about whether I should have Briar only date the brothers or if I should include side characters like Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and Solomon--or just save the latter four for seperate one-shots   
> Thoughts???
> 
> I drew Briar if you want to see [my first attempt at digital drawing](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/614609454414036992/seeing-all-the-art-out-there-of-peoples-mcs-made)
> 
> you can find my new obey me blog @ [apassintohell](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/)


	6. Skeletons Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished chapter 20 and I have a lot of feelings don't look at me
> 
> Trigger warning: the end of this chapter discusses Briar's past, which involves physical, verbal, mental and sexual abuse. They're not described in very much detail but tread lightly if this bothers you
> 
> For the sake of this chapter we're going to pretend Briar isn't immune to Demonus (or that Lucifer's is particularly strong)

It’s probably embarrassing that Lucifer escorts Briar to school like a child going to kindergarten for the first time; they’re far too nervous to really care. Their D.D.D is loaded with their new schedule, the class times and where they’re located. It’s helpful considering Briar has never really been in the magical wing of the school before. They’d never had a reason until now.

“Satan will be the one to meet you once your classes are done.” Lucifer’s footsteps are steady and precise against the stone floor. Despite the stares from those that linger in the hall he holds himself with pride, as always.

Briar’s almost jealous. What must it be like to be so confident in everything you do?

“What about Mammon?”

“He was called away by those witches he has a pact with. It’s unclear when he’ll return.”

Briar’s head lifts, strides lengthening to match him step by step. “About that, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I was hoping you’d help me—”

Lucifer comes to a stop outside a dark wood door. He reaches out to steady them when they nearly careen past, amusement in the curve of his lips. “Your class will be starting soon. Solomon should be inside.” He squeezes their shoulders lightly before letting his hands drop. “We can discuss whatever it is tonight, in my office.”

They stare at the door, nerves crawling up their throat. “Class. Right.”

A familiar comforting aura bleeds out into the air around them. They feel the ghost of feathers against their arms and the warmth of sunlight on their skin.

“You’re greater than you think,” he reminds. “now show them all.”

Whether its Lucifer’s faith in them or the sin of pride itself leaking in through their bond, Briar feels a wave of courage chase down the nerves and drown them. They smile up at him, reach out and push open the door.

The room is already quite full, with long polished stone tables that divide people up into threes. Briar’s hand tightens on their bag as they move slowly down the side. Solomon is in the back with an empty seat between him and a girl who’s doodling in her notebook.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would make it.” Solomon smiles as they slide into place beside him. “I guess I shouldn’t have doubted Lucifer.”

“I got held up at the castle.” The fact that it was due to their own personal breakdown is a topic that Briar avoids, though the ever-knowing look in Solomon’s eyes puts them on edge. He isn’t reading as malicious; in fact, he’s a rather blank slate.

Briar frowns and reaches down to pull out their things. Now that they’re actively trying to read someone, they can’t help but catch sight of the aura that the girl beside them exudes. It’s a soft yellow, like sunshine and daisies, though something familiar draws them closer. Black veins, just barely visible, pulsing like a heartbeat.

For the second time that day Briar finds themselves reaching out for someone before they can stop themselves. A pair of eyes meets their own over the rim of the stranger’s rounded glasses. She looks curious instead of offended, which is a relief in itself.

“Hi,” Briar says as their hand drops. “Sorry, that’s becoming a bad habit.”

“You’re not the first one in this school to do something strange.” She shrugs and rests her chin on a hand. Her ponytail falls over her shoulder and draws Briar’s eyes to the flowers pinned to her uniform. “I’m Evie. It looks like we’re all partners.”

“Partners?”

“The tables are groupings for magic study,” Solomon explains from their other side. “I thought that she was the best option.”

“Thanks,” Evie says. “I think.”

“I’m Briar.” They smile sheepishly, far too aware of the fact that they’re not exactly excelling their introduction. “I promise I don’t normally try to touch strangers. Your aura is just—interesting. It’s very yellow.”

She perks up at that. “Yeah? I’m going to tell that to my sister later, maybe it’ll convince her that my wardrobe is meant to be.”

They don’t get a chance to ask what she means. The door opens to let in a woman who commands the attention of the entire room.

“Good morning.”

Briar shivers as her voice fills the sudden silence. There’s something other in it; something that makes the hair on the back of their neck stand on end.

“Siren,” Solomon murmurs, close enough to make Briar shiver for an entirely different reason.

Evie makes a fascinated noise as she peers at their teacher from over her glasses. “She’s pretty. Can you see that?”

Briar almost tells her that anyone with eyes could see it—and then they look closer. There’s almost a fog drifting over her body, revealing flashes of pastel scales and wet skin as it moves. The next time she smiles there’s more teeth than there should be, and no pupil or sclera to be seen in her dark eyes.

“You’ll be sticking to the groups you’ve chosen for now. If I sense an unbalance, I’ll adjust you all accordingly.”

Solomon again, at their ear. “We started a new unit; the tables are a new set up. You came at the perfect time.”

Briar swats at him. “Would you stop doing that?”

He smiles serenely and leans back in his chair.

“We’ll be exploring the effects of magic on the psyche. This will include finding and expanding your own limits, as well as finding out what you can do when encountering someone else’s.” Her smile is dangerous and not unlike Asmo’s when he’s gotten his way. “Everyone has their own walls and will. Find ways to break it.”

A chill runs down Briar’s spine. This wasn’t at all what they’d been expecting for magic classes; especially for a beginner. Then again, they were in a school primarily for demons.

“Do we have to?” Evie’s fingers twist her pencil around—it’s then that Briar notices that there’s dirt under her nails. “Doesn’t exactly sound like a friendly exercise.”

“It’s not,” Briar says distantly. “it’s how demons collect and corrupt souls. Or in her case, how sirens catch prey.”

“Lucky for us we’re under Diavolo’s protection.” Solomon is the picture of nonchalance, as always. He doesn’t look the slightest bit bothered by the idea of breaking someone else’s will—or having his own broken.

“You realize that this will make you vulnerable too, right?” Briar raises an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes being an open book. I can’t even get a read on your aura.”

“Consider it a challenge. If you can break me, I will gladly bow to your expertise.” He glances between the two of them. “May the best sorcerer win.”

Evie speaks before Briar can. “It’s not a competition. We’re supposed to work _together_.” Her lips press together into a thin line. “She said to find our own limits and we can’t do that without helping each other.”

Their shoulders relax from tension they hadn’t known they’d been holding. “She’s right. Like it or not you’re going to have to stop being so shady, if only for a few hours every now and then.”

There’s amusement on his face despite the not so subtle call out. He rests his chin on a hand and smiles mischievously. “How ever shall I cope?”

Briar breathes it in and tastes the faintest flicker of something on the back of their tongue. It’s gone before they can put a name to it.

Evie holds out her D.D.D as packets detailing their instructions are handed out. “Here, put your numbers in. We can figure out a time to meet up.”

“It’ll be Briar who’ll be the determining factor, they’re always so terribly busy.”

Briar shoots him a warning look as they all shuffle phones. “I’ll be fine. I’m allowed to have a social life.”

He places their phone back in front of them. “Of course, I meant nothing by it. I simply know you have your hands full.”

“Not as full as you.”

“Your bantering is cute,” Evie drawls with a tiny smirk. “but we should probably go over these papers.”

Briar is horrified to find themselves blushing. They elbow Solomon in the side when he chuckles and grab their own set of papers. “Right. Let’s do this.”

* * *

Solomon is almost as exhausting as Asmo at times—and in far less pleasant ways. His secrecy puts Briar constantly on edge which is irritating when his charm makes them want to give him a chance. It leaves them feeling distinctly tired and grumpy upon meeting Satan who takes one look at them and offers his hand.

“Was it that bad?”

“No,” Briar sighs. “just tiring. Solomon is one of my partners from now on and I don’t really know how to feel about him. Especially since so many people have warned me about him seeming shady.”

“You’re a better judge of character than most, now.” He swings their hands lightly as they step out onto the street to walk back to the house. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t think it’ll cause problems?” They look up at him skeptically. “Having him around the house could be bad. He wants pacts with all of you—especially you.”

He shrugs, completely unfazed. “The only human I plan on having a pact with is you. If anything, you’re the one worried about having him around. Do you really think he’ll steal us away?”

That certainly gives them pause.

Briar stumbles slightly as their heart makes a valiant effort in jumping out of their chest; it meets with their ribs and sends an embarrassed flush to their cheeks. “That’s not—I don’t—” they groan and shove at his side; he doesn’t move an inch. “stop laughing at me!”

“You make it too easy.”

He smirks over at them, leaving Briar breathless the way he always does. He’s far too handsome for their own good. It makes it very hard to think—which is a problem considering how much Satan loves discussion.

“You’re coming by later to watch Mid-Fall Murders, right? It’s the second to last episode of the season.”

“I’m supposed to meet Lucifer to discuss how today went, but I’ll try to get there on time.” Briar smiles up at him. “Otherwise I’ll just have to watch it again.”

His nose wrinkles ever so slightly at the mention of Lucifer. “Mess up his paperwork for me, will you? He hates that.”

They shake their head, though they can’t deny the fond smile on their face. “Do it yourself. I’m not in the mood for a lecture today.”

“Fine.” His sigh is long and drawn out; he looks every part a suffering aristocrat. “I suppose I’ll simply entertain myself with the idea of you eventually joining the dark side.”

“I’m already in your “Formally Anti-Lucifer League,” doesn’t that count?”

His shoulder bumps against their own. “You haven’t joined the dark side until he says your name in that angry way of his.”

“You mean the way that would ensure a death wish for a human.”

“We would protect you.”

Briar’s chest both twists and warms at the confidence in his voice. Lucifer can’t hurt them with the pact between them—none of their demons can. Still, the fact that Satan of all people would be willing to stand up for them does things to their insides.

They’re still getting used to having people that are willing to fight _on_ their side instead of against them. It’s a nice change.

“You charmer,” they tease past the emotion wrapped around their neck. “I bet you say that to all the humans.”

He pushes open the gates to the House of Lamentation. They step inside with him on their heels as the gate closes behind them. “Is that what you think of me? I’m not Asmo.”

“No, Asmo doesn’t have a cute tail.”

His cheeks flush; they do their best to hide their snicker when they catch sight of his wide eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” they promise. “I’m going to go see if Lucifer’s ready to talk.”

His mouth opens but no response comes out.

Briar rounds the corner and can’t contain their laughter any longer, demon hearing be damned.

* * *

Lucifer’s office is closed, as it always is, which doesn’t give much for Briar to go off of. They pause in the hallway to pull out their phone to doublecheck that if he is inside, they’re not going to be interrupting anything important.

**Support Group**

**[Briar] > Are you in your office?**

**[Lucifer] > I stopped by my room to change; I’ll be down shortly. **

**[Briar] > We can always reschedule**

**[Lucifer] > Wait for me.**

They let out a soft sigh and lean back against the wall. Typical, stubborn Lucifer—not that they were expecting much else. If Briar is being honest, they’re rather nervous about their meeting. They’d managed to put the implications of their most recent assignment on the backburner but now that they have nothing to distract it is hard to ignore.

Being an empath has already proved challenging without someone else trying to break down their walls. Briar isn’t exactly eager to let loose the skeletons of their past.

They catch Lucifer’s approach out of the corner of their eye. His footsteps are silent against the rug as they usually are; unless he’s being intentionally loud to alert them to his presence.

“Briar,” he greets with an incline of his head. He pushes open the door to his study like there isn’t a layer of magic over the entire room. “come in, make yourself comfortable.”

Briar follows after him and heads for the soft red couch that sits against the wall. It’s a relief to put their feet up. They shed their jacket and loosen the ribbon around their neck before they deem themselves ready for whatever is about to transpire.

Lucifer comes back with a tray of tea after a few long moments. He takes the seat beside them before handing them a cup done just the way they like.

“Thank you.” Briar’s fingers wrap around the porcelain, heat seeping out across their skin. It burns a bit, but they find themselves alright with it. It takes their mind off of their nerves.

“I take it your first day went well?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Briar shrugs lightly. “My study group seems nice, I’m just not crazy about our assignment.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

They shift under his scrutiny. His eyes always feel piercing, but they feel especially trapped now. “We’re supposed to explore the effect of magic on the psyche. Our task is to find one another’s mental limits.”

“This makes you uncomfortable.”

“Of course, it does!” Briar lets out a soft huff, unable to help it. They’re not frustrated with him, only themselves. “I’m supposed to let _Solomon_ of all people root around in my brain for the sole purpose of finding weak points to exploit. I can barely let you guys in on some of those weaknesses half the time.”

“You’re afraid of being seen as weak. Of having your secrets exposed to those you don’t trust.” Lucifer’s expression is unreadable when they dare to look up at him. He stares down into the tea in his own hand. “Perhaps I should exchange this tea for Demonus instead.”

Briar’s mouth drops open at that. “I’m sorry?”

He stands to rummage around in the cabinet beside his desk before they can even fully comprehend what’s going on. “You will continue to be afraid as long as this remains unsolved. As our guest and a member of our family, I cannot let this continue.”

“So you think the solution is getting _drunk together_?”

“No need to sound so shocked. You’re noticeably more open when intoxicated which will make tapping into the secrets you fear easier.” A large bottle full of red liquid is set down on the table in front of them. “Would you rather explore them now with me, or with your classmates later?”

The answer is painfully easy.

“You,” Briar says softly.

He nods and takes his seat once more. “I will inform everyone not to disturb us. Unless you have complaints?”

“No. If we stop I—won’t be able to continue.”

They sit in silence as he taps out a message on his D.D.D and make a valiant effort to not think about what they’ve just agreed to. Every fear, every dark part of their past, told freely and exposed to Lucifer of all people.

Perhaps it’s for the best that it’s him. As the avatar of pride, he’s more aware than anyone about the need to not come across as weak. However, whereas his is rooted in his nature, Briar’s has been formed from years of abuse and neglect. They’re not sure what rooting up all their baggage will do; they only know that it won’t be pretty.

“Lucifer,” they whisper. “will you promise me something?”

His head lifts, eyes narrowing as he picks up on their tone. “What is it?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what I tell you—” they take a deep breath and try to ignore the voice at the back of their head screaming about the futility of it all. “promise that you won’t think any less of me. That we’ll still be friends.”

They’re unprepared for the warmth of his skin against their cheek. His fingers are faintly calloused and warm against their skin. “There is nothing you could say to me that would change the way I care for you. I promise you that.”

His thumb runs along their trembling bottom lip before he ushers them closer. Briar leans against his side, eager to be wrapped up in the warmth of his cloak.

“Talk when you’re ready, and drink if you need to. I’ll be here to listen.”

Briar nods into his shoulder.

They don’t know where to begin, exactly. There are many things they’re afraid of exposing and they all have multiple layers. Still, they try their best.

“My parents were fine at first. We had family trips, we got along, had a cat and a house and a yard. Then somewhere they just—changed. I started being a burden. No matter how hard I tried it was never good enough. It was rare that they hit me, but when they did, they made sure to make it hurt.” Briar smiles an unhappy sort of smile and clutches at one of his hands. “They liked to scream at me about everything and nothing. Even when I tried to be helpful, they’d find things to be angry about. They attacked my personality, my appearance, you name it. It was kind of a relief when they kicked me out, you know? I was so broken and tired of bottling up all my emotions. I was a fucking robot and it took years to recover.”

Briar swipes at the tears wetting their eyes. They sniffle miserably before reaching for the bottle to take a long swig. They aren’t a fan of using alcohol to escape emotions but just this once they will go along with it.

“They were wrong,” Lucifer says quietly. “you didn’t deserve what they did to you.”

“I know, it just—it still haunts me, no matter how many times someone says that.” Briar’s shoulders lift helplessly. “I can’t help it when I screw up and immediately turn to self-flagellation. Most times I can curb it, but we all have our moments of weakness.”

“When voices are raised your pulse speeds. When you’re scolded you always look like you’re in pain.” Lucifer’s fingers tighten around their own. “I understand now. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Briar lifts their head to meet his eyes. “ _Lucifer_. I mean it, I don’t blame you.”

A sigh leaves his lips. “This was the cause of your hesitance at Diavolo’s castle, was it not?”

“It was. I’ve spent most of my life being told I’m not good enough by people who were supposed to love me. I don’t want to disappoint another family.”

“I’ve already told you that’s impossible.” He wraps his cloak around them more firmly as if he can block the very thought out so long as they’re safe at his side. “You’re one of our own.”

“I know.” They smile into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

His chest rumbles with a comforting purr and they allow themselves to relax into the noise. It makes it easier for what comes next.

“I went from the streets to living with my girlfriend at the time. For a while it was great, she was supportive and loving and everything I needed. Then things—changed.”

They took a rather desperate drink as Lucifer stiffened ever so slightly beneath them.

“Asmo knows a bit about this, since he asked, but she got controlling. She pushed boundaries I had told her I wasn’t comfortable crossing and stopped listening to me when I said no. I didn’t get a say in my body or what it did or didn’t do.” Briar presses closer in an attempt to hide away from the memories rising to the surface.

_“Where are you going, lovely?”_

_Waking up to hands on their body, laughter when they try to push them off—_

_Fear, heartbreak, loss of hope._

“Briar,” Lucifer says with some strain.

With a jolt they realize he’s shifted. They have his hand in as much of a death grip as they can manage as a human and despite the fact that he could easily pull away, his hand remains. They release it with a gasp when they realize everything is being transmitted through their fingertips.

“I’m so sorry, fuck, are you okay? I didn’t—”

Briar breaks off with a gasp when arms and wings fold around them. They’re pulled against his chest, face buried in his neck. He’s shaking faintly, waves of fury against their skin like a hot brand, along with something else, something that soothes the heat of his anger and feels safe.

“I’ll kill her,” he says into their hair. “I’ll make her wish she was never born. She’ll regret ever laying a hand on you.”

They figure they should dissuade him but the part of them that aches for revenge, that cries out about the unfairness of it all is blossoming. It wraps wicked vines around their heart; sends flowers up their throat and leaves them tasting crushed hibiscus blossoms. 

Their eyes close as they breathe in what they now recognize as a fierce sense of protectiveness. It’s coming off of him in waves, so strong and heady that it makes their head spin. Paired with the alcohol they feel particularly weak. They’re more than content to just lay in his arms.

“Thank you,” Briar whispers through the fog.

He growls in response, though it is not angry, not at them.

They sit there for quite some time, both breathing in one another’s presence. Briar, allowing him to chase away their demons and Lucifer, reassuring himself that they’re safe and under his wing—both figuratively and literally.

Somewhere along the way Briar mumbles the rest of it. The breakup, making a living for themselves, meeting someone new and realizing that while they’re better, it’s still impossibly easy to fall into bad habits. The second break up follows along with the added baggage. Then a move, a new start, finding themselves all over again.

Then the Devildom; meeting his brothers and finding a family.

They’re crying by the end of it, though they’re not all unhappy tears. It’s relieving in a way they hadn’t expected to tell it all; to be held through it and told how badly Lucifer wants to make the ones that have hurt them pay.

It’s the fact that they don’t reject the idea outright that probably points to why Hell has become home to Briar.

“You really thought I would think less of you for that?” Lucifer presses a kiss to the side of their face. “Foolish human. If anything, it only confirmed how strong you are.”

Briar smiles. “Yeah?”

He hums his agreement.

His fingers run over their wet cheeks and wipe away what tears remain. “Are you still scared?”

“More nervous than anything,” they admit after a thoughtful pause. “you were right about this helping. Do you think it would be alright if my group worked on the project here? Just in case something goes wrong?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He pushes their hair back from their face, face soft in a way it only ever is when they’re alone. “Call me if it does. I’ll be there immediately, no matter the circumstance.”

Briar leans into his touch, unable to help the soft sound of contentment that leaves their lips. “I’m almost as bad as you at asking for help, but I’ll try.”

He tugs lightly on their hair. “I’ll let that slide just this once.”

“How generous.” They press a kiss to his palm before he can pull away. “Thank you for this, Lucifer, really. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

“My door is open to you anytime. I hope you know that by now.”

“I do my best to remind myself.” They can’t resist running their hands through the feathers closest to them, an action spurred on by their slightly intoxicated brain. “I love you.”

He stiffens under them, but they’re far too distracted by the way his wings stretch under their attentions to fully comprehend what’s happening.

“I love you too,” he says slowly. “you will always be dear to me.”

Their chest warms and bubbles at the words. They feel impossibly light; like they want to jump around with Asmo and squeal the way they never got to as a teenager. They kiss him, fueled by alcohol and happiness that sits light on their tongue.

He tastes like licorice and whisky, intoxicating in a way they’d expected. He doesn’t pull away from the contact, instead his hands slide down over their back to pull them closer.

His lips are firm and unyielding against their own. There’s no use in fighting him for control, they know even before trying that it’s futile. He doesn’t need to breathe the way that they do and can outlast them through any sort of battle.

They come away panting, though they can’t help but chase after more. They’re lightheaded when he finally trails his lips down along their jaw with a soft chuckle.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” Briar gasps. “you have no idea.”

“I think I do,” he says with thinly veiled amusement. “am I to assume you’re feeling better?”

“For now,” they agree. “I bet more kisses would help.”

He rolls his eyes though his gaze is fond when his head lifts to meet their eyes. His hair is slightly mused, lips wet and ever so slightly swollen. His fangs flash when he smirks. “Who am I to deny such a reasonable request?”

Their fingers card into the hair at the back of his head as they reel him back in. “Not a fool,” they mumble. “don’t stop.”

* * *

**Never Trust a Human**

**[Satan] > As you haven’t arrived, I’m assuming Lucifer still has you holed up in his office. I’ll record the episode so we can watch it later, though you’ll miss my preliminary thoughts.**

**[Belphegor] > Are you going to explain the name of this chat**

**[Satan] > I think it speaks for itself.**

**[Belphegor] > If by that you mean it says ‘Satan is Jealous of Lucifer’ then you’re right**

**[Satan] > …I didn’t ask for your opinion.**

**[Belphegor] > I didn’t ask to be woken up**

**[Belphegor] > Looks like we both lose**

**[Belphegor] > .emoji.glare.**

**[Satan] > I’ll be waiting, Briar.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> justalittlebitwitchy [drew Briar and their OC Evie!](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/615032860885336064/justalittlebitwitchy-apassintohell-briar-is)
> 
> They also drew Briar in a [monster fucker shirt!](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/615149815342448640/justalittlebitwitchy-apassintohell-briar-in)
> 
> I designed all of the brother's seals too if you'd like to see what [Briar's marks look like](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/615315157300723712/i-designed-all-of-the-seals-for-the-boys-last)
> 
> [Briar and Evie](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/615072165251956736/im-used-to-drawing-animals-so-apologies-for-the)
> 
> This fic's [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0JVNPsVZbfyAswse1IRdeN?si=6v61hwiKSYKHD_aA29JZPg)
> 
> This fic's [board](https://www.pinterest.com/101fragiledream/aes-obey-me/)
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback! Everyone has voted for Briar to get it on with as many people as they can so I'll do my best
> 
> I love hearing from you guys <3


	7. Bloodlust of the Protective Degree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled Don't Fuck With Briar's Demon's

Briar wakes up warm and blanketed in soft sheets. They free a hand from their cocoon and feel along the sheets for the edge of their nightstand. They frown when their fingertips only meet more mattress; since they’re splayed out and yet feel no impending edge in sight, Briar assumes that they’re not in their own bed.

They crack an eye open to squint past their tangled hair. Sure enough, they’re left staring at a rather sexual looking skeleton in the corner. The image is enough to startle a laugh out of them; they’d never put two and two together before but now that they’ve seen it, they can’t seem to stop. They wonder if anyone else has teased Lucifer on his choice of skeleton décor.

A happy sigh leaves their lips as they stretch out against the sheets. Now that they know where they are, it’s easy to put a name to the scent that surrounds them. Everything smells clean and crisp, with the undertone of whatever cologne Lucifer normally wears. It’s a lot like sandalwood with a hint of something Briar hasn’t been able to put a finger on yet.

Lucifer is nowhere in sight; a fact they try not to feel too disappointed about. They’re aware that he’s busy and that their impromptu feels fest probably cut into his regular schedule. Still, they’d hoped to find out what it felt like to wake up next to him.

They brush a finger against their lips and shiver slightly at the reminder of what else had transpired last night.

They’d confessed. Lucifer had reciprocated and then—kissing. A lot of it.

That’s enough to have them searching for their phone, giddy enough to need to talk to someone. They find it on Lucifer’s dresser, on top of their neatly folded jacket. There are several messages from Satan and Belphegor that Briar reads with some trace of guilt before they skip to Asmo.

**Is This Weird?**

**[Briar] > I’ve never really done this whole ‘girl talk’ before but Lucifer kissed me last night and I didn’t know who to tell **

**[Briar] > Sorry if this is weird you just seemed like the best person to talk to about it**

They spend exactly thirty seconds panicking over their own emotional vulnerability before Asmodeus’ name lights up with the _typing now_ icon.

**[Asmodeus] > If you apologize to me again, I’m going to hunt you down and give you something to _really_ be sorry about**

Briar gapes.

This isn’t some sort of elaborate prank, there’s no way they’ve somehow switched Lucifer’s name to Asmo’s in their contacts.

And yet the threat sends heat pooling between their legs all the same.

**[Asmodeus] > I can practically feel your shock from here, darling, it’s delicious <3**

**[Asmodeus] > Tell me everything! **

**[Briar] > We met in his office to discuss my first magic class and**

**[Briar] > …long story short I cried all over him, got drunk and confessed**

**[Briar] > Then we sort of kissed until I fell asleep?**

**[Asmodeus] > How scandalous! .emoji.wink. **

**[Asmodeus] > And to think I’m behind Mammon AND Lucifer…**

**[Asmodeus] > I’ll have to up my game**

**[Briar] > .emoji.blush.**

**[Briar] > It’s not a competition, Asmo**

**[Asmodeus] > You’re right, love, I’m clearly the only one in the running**

**[Asmodeus] > Stop by later and I’ll prove it <3**

Briar stares at the screen for a few long moments but no further comments arrive. They shoot off an apologetic text to Satan before they set their phone down to go to the bathroom. They take one look at themselves in the mirror and decide to take advantage of Lucifer’s expansive monotone bathroom. The shower is huge with four different shower heads that rain down on them from all sides. It relaxes their tense muscles and has them tipping their head back with a soft sigh.

They can’t help the way their hands trail down over their breasts to linger between their thighs. Between Lucifer and Asmodeus their body is raring to go. It doesn’t help that they can feel the faint pulse of Asmo through the mark on their chest, his own lust bleeding out into their own skin.

It’s happened since bonding and yet up until now Briar had always done their best to hide it. The fact that they can seek out the cause now without having to explain themselves is enough to have their fingers circling their clit.

A soft moan escapes into the bathroom’s hazy air, drowned out by the steady fall of the water against tile.

There’s a bench set into the wall that they back down onto, legs spread and hips already arching up into their own touch.

Their fingers run along Lucifer’s mark and they let out another moan when a pulse of _something_ jolts up their spine. Their nails dig in slightly, curious to feel whatever that was again. Nothing answers them despite how they prod and poke at the skin and finally they give up with a soft huff and focus on chasing after their orgasm instead.

Briar remembers Lucifer’s lips against their own, his hands on their hips and his wings wrapped around their back as he took their mouth for his own. They hadn’t fought then, and they wouldn’t fight now. They’ve been so curious about Lucifer’s almost painful control and dominance that they wouldn’t dream of fighting against it; not the first time, at least.

They want to know what it’s like to be his sole focus. They want to experience whatever unique brand of sadism everyone seems so afraid and awed by.

“That can be arranged.”

Briar’s eyes fly open. They lurch upright with a gasp and nearly hit their head against the wall behind them. Lucifer is a dark shadow in the doorway, and they squint past the water in their eyes and the glass in their way to make sure he’s not a mirage.

“Lucifer?” They ask hesitantly. “What—”

“I was making breakfast.” His shadow moves as he steps further into the bathroom. His hands lift to begin shedding his clothes. “Imagine my surprise when I felt you there, teasing me with the image of you in here thinking about me.”

Briar flushes scarlet, beyond mortified. They understand now. They’d unintentionally pushed their own feelings through to Lucifer’s side of the bond when they’d touched his mark.

“Why so silent now? You were perfectly content broadcasting your thoughts when I wasn’t around to punish you for it.”

He’s naked, skin blurry and yet bare through the glass of the shower. He pulls open the door to stare down at them with slitted eyes. They can’t help but shiver under the weight of his gaze, thighs squeezing around the hand still between them.

“Lucifer,” they manage to say. “I didn’t mean to—”

His head tosses his bangs to the side as the water plasters them to his temples. He closes the distance between them to catch their chin in a hand. “Perhaps, but you did it all the same.” His free hand catches their wet hair and draws them up into standing. His smirk deepens when they sway towards him, already far too lost under his attention. “You wanted to know what it’s like to be under my command. Shall I show you?”

Their lips part when his thumb brushes along the seam. They can’t help it when their tongue flicks out to brush against his fingertip. “Please.”

“Your manners have returned, I see.” He leans down to press a kiss to the skin behind their ear; his fangs are a threat all their own when he speaks. “Do you think they’ll be enough to save you?”

Briar can’t help the whimper that escapes their throat. They’re drowning in the sharp scent of his arousal, lungs full to the brim and body vibrating under the intense aura of his dominance. “Is it?” They whisper.

He laughs as his hand tightens in their hair. “Are you aware of safe words?”

Their lips move before their brain can really catch up. This, they know. “Stoplights.” Briar squirms against him just to get him to pull their hair. Water drips into their face as their neck arches under the strain. “Lucifer, please—”

His nails press a warning into their side and then he moves. His hand exchanges their hair for their throat before they’re spinning, palms slapping against the tile to prevent themselves from hitting it face first. Briar’s back arches, ass pushing back against his arousal.

“Please,” they gasp out again, only to be silenced by his fingers. They groan around the digits and suck, thighs squeezing together restlessly. They’re hungry for something, _anything_. 

“Look at you,” Lucifer murmurs. He kicks a foot between their legs and forces them apart until he’s satisfied. His hand finds where his mark is painted black against their skin; they moan loudly, the sound half a plea for his fingers to move upwards, _ever so slightly_ —

They gasp when his hand falls down on their ass in a sharp slap.

It’s been a long time since anyone has been rough with them, but Briar’s knees threaten to give out under the arousal that follows.

“You’re lucky we both have things to do today, especially with that reaction.” His fingers curl up into their heat as his fingers push deep into Briar’s throat. “You’re just begging to be put over my knee until you cry.”

Briar would tell him that they’re already ready to cry form sheer need alone but they’re far too busy trying not to gag on his fingers. He seems to get it anyways if the way he laughs is any indicator.

“Go on,” he says into their ear. “tell me what you want.”

“You,” Briar gasps as soon as his fingers leave their mouth. “fuck me, please, I want your cock—”

They’re silenced again as he ponders that, thumb rubbing lazy circles against their clit. “You have been working hard to deal with your powers. I suppose your honesty last night deserves a reward.”

Briar is nodding their head before they can even fully comprehend what they’re doing. Their hips squirm frantically when his hand leaves their cunt to position the head of his cock up against their heat instead.

“Be **still**.”

They choke around his fingers but freeze all the same, eyes watering and breath coming fast. He lets out a rumbling sound of approval before he’s pressing forward, lighting up their insides the entire way in.

Briar’s quivering with the restraint of holding back. They want so badly to fuck themselves back onto his cock but whether it’s the bond, Lucifer or their own will entirely, they manage to wait, if only just.

“Good pet,” Lucifer breathes into their ear.

It’s a good thing he’s holding them up because their knees buckle under the praise, insides going white hot with need.

He laughs and then they’re finally being fucked.

He’s not gentle, but Briar never expected him to be. He holds them still with a hand on their throat, his other painting bruises on their hip as he pulls them back into his every thrust. His fangs nip at their neck and shoulders, leaving behind marks as he breathes praise and filth into their skin.

“Look at you, you’re filthy. Do you really want me this badly?”

 _Yes!_ Briar wants to cry. _Yes, yes, yes!_

Their toes curl, arms trembling against the wall and legs practically boneless. Their orgasm is wrapping tight around their spine, an inevitable wave that they’re ready to drown in. Lucifer’s thrusts speed as if he can sense it, teeth growing vicious against their skin.

“Who do you belong to?” He growls, nails growing into claws that bite into their skin.

“You,” they gasp out. “I belong to you, Lucifer.”

A feral sound rises above the crash of the water as his hand tightens against their throat. “Cum for me then. Prove it.”

Briar heaves for air that won’t come, not with his fingers in the way. Their head goes blank as they convulse around his cock, body going tense and then loose as they find release. He fucks them through it, ruthless and unapologetic.

They sob with the pleasure of it all and shake when he paints their insides with his seed.

“Fuck,” Briar gasps when he pulls out. It’s only his arm around their waist that keeps them from falling and they go without a fight when he sits to pull them into his lap.

“Easy,” he says into their temple, hands painting warm lines down over their sides. “you did well, just breathe for me.”

Their eyes close as they listen to the soft drone of his voice. The sharpness of arousal is fading into something softer, something like flower petals replacing thorns. They melt into it, loose and warm and far too content in his arms.

“I’ve been dreaming about doing this for a long time,” Briar eventually says into his shoulder. “your imaginary self could learn a thing or two from you.”

He laughs in the way he only seems to do when they’re alone, soft and unreserved. “I’ll be glad to make him obsolete.”

“Mm, me too.” They press a kiss to his jaw. “I’m sorry for interrupting breakfast.”

“We learned one of your new abilities, I’d say it was worth it.”

“That was all that was worth it?” Briar looks up at him with a knowing look. “Do I need to remind you whose cum is dripping down my thighs?”

He pinches their side lightly, though his expression is fond. “Hush. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Their mouth opens to tell him that if anything _he’s the one ruining the moment thank you very much_ when his lips find their own. They can’t do much speaking after that.

The water is still warm when they finally part, though Briar’s skin is starting to prune. Lucifer helps them clean up before he carries them out of the shower to dry them off with some of the softest towels they’ve ever had the pleasure of touching.

He complies when they make grabby hands at one of his shirts—it’s a rare opportunity, after all—and shakes his head when they practically preen inside of it.

“Now I just need to steal your coat.”

His eyebrow quirks. “Excuse me?”

They wave their too-long sleeves. “It’s comfy and smells like you and it’s entirely your fault I got attached. So, one day I’m going to steal it.”

He disappears into his closet, leaving them wondering if they’ve angered him somehow. When he returns its with a black bundle that he drapes over their shoulders. “There,” he says. “now you don’t have to steal anything.”

Briar stares in the mirror with wide eyes. They’d been joking—mostly—but now. “Marry me,” they blurt.

He stares at their reflection with the fond sort of exasperation that’s becoming far too common. “It’s only a coat.”

They shake their head and wrap themselves up in its fabric with a happy sound. “It’s the famous Lucifer Coat of Doom, how dare you call it _only a coat_. People have died for this.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

Briar hugs the fabric close. “Shh,” they whisper to it. “don’t listen to him, you’re perfect.”

Lucifer sighs from somewhere behind them as he puts the finishing touches on his own outfit. He looks perfectly put together in his casual clothes, no one would guess that he’d fucked Briar’s brains out in the next room.

They push off of the dresser they’ve been sitting on to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Lucifer, really. For last night, too.”

He smoothes their hair back from their face to press a kiss to their forehead. “You don’t have to thank me for that, dearest. Though, I am going to propose we conduct a meeting every week as a sort of check in.”

Briar does their very best to ignore the way their heart is trying to claw its way down into their stomach to dance with whatever nightmare bugs are having a party there. “You mean like a date?”

He doesn’t bother fighting his smile. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that.”

“You’re putting ‘dates’ into your schedule.” They can’t help the snicker that escapes their lips. “That’s adorable, you’re the best.”

His cheeks flush.

“Yes, well—”

“Oi, Lucifer!” There’s a knock on the door. “Breakfast is ready, you’d better get down here if you want any!”

Briar blinks. “You left breakfast to Mammon?”

Lucifer looks almost sheepish. “He was the closest at the time. Satan helped him.”

“How exciting.” They grab their uniform and their bag before deeming themselves ready. “Alright, let’s go. I’m starving.”

They walk together down the hall, stopping only briefly at Briar’s room so that they can drop off their things. It’s pretty obvious what they’ve been doing but at least they won’t have to carry around their uniform while being teased.

Lucifer catches their hand in his own to twine their fingers together. It sends Briar’s pulse into a staccato rhythm that pushes blood to their cheeks. How is it that they can beg for his cock without shame only to turn into a blushing schoolgirl the moment he’s affectionate?

“You had something you wanted to discuss with me the other day,” he says. “something about Mammon?”

Briar’s head lifts at the reminder. “Oh! Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about his other pacts.”

“What about them?”

“There’s a way to break them, right?”

He frowns, hand tightening around their own. “There is. Why do you ask?”

There’s a growing tension around him as their steps slow. It doesn’t take Briar long to realize where they’ve miss stepped. “I’m happy with my pacts, I don’t want to break them. I’m asking because he—he told me what it feels like to be in a pact you don’t want. Whatever punishment you thought he deserved has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

“You want me to help cut the ties of all his other pacts.”

There’s no anger in his voice, not yet. Briar takes that as a good sign.

“Yes, I do. He told me that it’s like having your skin ripped off and your body invaded, Lucifer. You must see that that’s wrong. I know you’re not cruel when it comes to the people you love, no matter how hard you try to come off as it.” Briar stops by the stairs and turns to look up at him. They squeeze his hand and try to convey as much of their care and need to protect them all, even from themselves. “He’s learned his lesson. If you won’t help him for him, then help him because I’m asking you.”

Lucifer’s face is particularly blank in the way it is when he’s trying desperately not to let his emotions show; he’s a lot like Satan in that regard—not that Briar would ever tell them that. There’s still none of his prideful anger to be seen, whether that’s Briar’s influence or his own control is unknown. “It’s not pleasant,” he finally says. “there are two ways. I doubt they’ll comply with the easier.”

Briar breathes through their trepidation. “What are they?”

“The first would be the witches themselves going through the painful process of removing the marks. Both parties would have to be involved and willing.”

“And the second?”

He doesn’t blink. “Only in death are the pacts fulfilled. Their souls belong to Mammon, then.”

They’d known the answer, somehow. Briar isn’t sure if they should be concerned over the lack of horror they feel. “You think death is the answer.”

“I’ve met them before, I know how greedy and twisted they’ve become.” He lets out a soft sigh as his mask begins to crack. He steps closer until Briar has to crane their head all the way back to meet his eyes. “I know Mammon would never ask me to help break the pacts, just as I know he would never put you at risk by asking you either. His pacts have been a nuisance for a while now.”

They don’t try and interrupt. They know he’s talking it over with himself, convincing his pride that it’s his choice and not a sign of weakness on his part. As hard as it is at times, they’ve learned—and continue to learn—how to work around their demon’s sins.

“I’ll take care of it,” he finally says.

“Wait—” they stumble when he begins to lead the way down the stairs. “I didn’t ask so you could shoulder the burden on your own! I meant it when I said I wanted to help!”

“I know you did. However, I won’t involve you in such dirty business.”

“That’s not up to you!” They yank at his grip until he’s forced to stop lest he drag them down the stairs. They’re at eye level now with him several steps lower. “They trapped Mammon, and I know you were involved but they must be powerful! What if something happens to you and no one knows because you insisted on leaving me out of the loop?!”

He flares up in familiar anger. “You think me so stupid to fall in a trap?”

“That’s not what I said!” Briar lets out a frustrated huff and waves a shaky hand. “I’m worried, okay? You all treat Mammon like he’s stupid but he’s second in power only to you. If they try and use the pact to fight you off what will you do, then? Mammon will hate himself and you’ll be forced to hurt him for something that’s not his fault!”

They’re making a commotion, one that’s bound to catch the interest of the brothers already in the kitchen—if it hasn’t already. However, Briar is perfectly aware that if they let this slide now, Lucifer will act as he sees fit.

“So, you expect me to bring _you_ , put you in _harms way_ and watch as I _kill_?” There’s something pained and hidden in his eyes, something that makes them hurt. “Mammon is one thing, but what do you expect me to do if they threaten your life? You don’t have his healing capabilities or the protection of a pact with them.”

Briar can’t help it. They reach out to touch a hand to his face, drawn in by the turmoil he’s trying so hard to hide behind anger.

Their eyes roll into the back of their head as soon as they make contact. A rush of emotions and images overwhelms them all at once. It’s as if someone is dumping buckets of pictures over their head and expecting them to somehow see and comprehend them all.

Briar does their best to breathe through it and reaches out for the closest one. They’re startled to see their face staring back at them, wide eyed and scared.

Another follows, this time of their body in Mammon’s arms as they fade away.

Lucifer’s hand takes their own and pulls it away from his face, breaking the connection. All at once the strength leaves Briar’s body and they’re left collapsed against him as they shake.

“I won’t think you’re a monster,” they say around the pounding in their head. Their voice is hoarse, as if they’ve been chugging saltwater. They don’t fight when he picks them up in his arms and makes his way down to the kitchen. “I won’t die, either, not with all of you looking out for me.”

Mammon opens the door to the kitchen before Lucifer can. His mouth is twisted into a frown. His aura is so thick with guilt that Briar could choke on it.

“Not your fault.” Briar forces their eyes open to meet his own. “I promise.”

“It’s always my fault,” he mutters, so uncharacteristically not himself that Briar struggles against Lucifer’s hold to reach out for him.

“Be still,” Lucifer orders. “you shouldn’t have tried to exert yourself so fast, you’re supposed to take this slow.”

They frown at that and accept the tea Satan gives them with faintly shaking hands. The honey in it soothes their throat and leaves them warm inside. “You were being stubborn. You still haven’t promised not to go off on your own.”

“What’s all this about killing, anyways?” Leviathan shifts from his place on the counter. “And what does it have to do with Mammon?”

“Nothin’!” Mammon barks. “Nothin’ is happenin’ so everyone can shut up about it!”

“I asked Lucifer to help me break Mammon’s other pacts.”

“Oh my, possessive, are we?”

Briar shoots Asmodeus a halfhearted glare. He chuckles and pushes some of their hair back from their face. “That has nothing to do with this. Mammon’s other pacts hurt him, and I want to put a stop to it. You’d all do the same for me.”

They’re silent at that, unable to deny it.

“You’re alright with them dying?” Satan’s voice is blank; curious. “I thought you’d be more concerned.”

“Look, I’ve never been a model citizen. I know how horrible people can be and I know that everyone is just as selfish on the inside. There’s pretty much nothing you can tell me that will convince me that protecting the people I love isn’t worth it.”

“You would make a good demon,” Belphegor murmurs from where he’s taken up residence by their legs. “then again, I already knew that.”

“If that makes me a demon then so be it. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.” Briar’s gaze is fierce as they dare anyone to argue. “I’ve never been a good person and I’m not about to grow morals that will only get in the way of protecting Mammon.”

“It looks like we’re all killing some witches.” Asmodeus lets out a dramatic sigh. A sharp grin follows the action, all hard angles and lit up cruelty. “How **wonderful**.”

Mammon gapes. “Now wait just a minute—"

“I haven’t had witch souls in a long time,” Beelzebub muses. “I’m in.”

Satan stares at Lucifer and quirks an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’ll let Diavolo know I’ll be attending to family matters today,” Lucifer sighs. “finish your breakfast and then we’ll go. Mammon, Belphegor and Levi will stay here with Briar. Briar, I want you to order Mammon to stay by your side until we return. If another order tries to break through it’ll give us ample time to prepare.”

“Lucifer!” Mammon smacks his palms down against the counter. “Ya can’t be serious! I hate the witches, but Briar shouldn’t be involved!”

“They’re not. That’s why you’re to watch over them.”

Briar frowns but doesn’t argue. They’re still a bit weak from tapping into Lucifer’s fears and spending time with three of the cuddliest brother’s doesn’t seem so bad.

Lucifer disappears back out the door before Mammon can argue any further, leaving him to fume silently. Beelzebub shakes his head when Briar goes to reach out for him, and they drop their hand reluctantly.

“This isn’t what I had in mind for today,” they try to joke. “I didn’t think I’d start a literal witch hunt.”

“You have the best ideas, darling,” Asmodeus purrs. He pushes closer to their side until his body is a warm line against their own. It’s comforting, and they lean into it happily.

It isn’t until his hands card into their hair that they realize that it’s far too quiet. Mammon would normally be shooing him away by now.

Belphegor sends out a pulse of blanketed comfort when their anxiety spikes. They drop a hand to pet his hair in thanks.

At some point some sort of turnover is placed in front of them and Briar eats without really tasting anything. The room is taunt with anticipatory tension; it sets Briar on edge. The threat of violence is cloying, and it grows harder and harder to breathe through it.

Lucifer returns when Briar is debating making a run for it and collects those that are going with him. “We should be back by nightfall,” he tells them.

“And if you’re not?”

“Have a little faith, love.” Asmodeus presses a kiss to the corner of their mouth. “Look at who you’re talking to.”

Briar cracks a smile. “Be safe. And thank you.”

“You’re not the one that should be thanking us,” Satan says, though its soft enough to lack any real cutting edge.

Briar watches them disappear back out into the hall and lets out a heavy sigh. They practically fall over when the room drains of more than half the tension that had been suffocating them. All that’s left is Belphegor at their feet, Levi fidgeting on the counter and Mammon who’s pacing.

Briar nudges Belphie gently before standing. Their legs firm after a few seconds of steadying themselves. Once they’re sure they won’t fall they make their way over to Mammon to catch his hand.

He whirls will a snarl that catches them off guard enough to earn a flinch. His anger immediately evaporates into guilt as he slumps in on himself. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t, I just wasn’t paying attention.” They rub soothing circles into the skin by his thumb. “Can we talk? Levi and Belphie can go set up a movie in Levi’s room.”

“We can?” Levi blinks and straightens abruptly. “Right! Sure, let’s go, Belphie. We’ll just—be waiting.”

Briar watches them go until all that’s left is Mammon looking painfully dejected in front of them. “What’s going on? You know you can talk to me.”

“I just—why’d you do that? I was fine and then ya got Lucifer involved and—” He groans and drags his free hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t’ve told ya about the pacts.”

“No,” Briar corrects sternly. “you should have. It’s not normal to just accept pain, Mammon. Believe me, I spent years convincing myself that I deserved every single bad thing that happened to me. You don’t deserve to be forced to be at someone’s beck and call, especially not someone you don’t like.”

“I’m a demon! Pain is part of our existence!”

“Not like this.” Their lips press together into a firm line. “I didn’t ask Lucifer because I think you’re weak. I did it because I love you and seeing you in pain hurts me. Surely you can understand that?”

Mammon falters mouth open as if to argue before his brows furrow. He jerks his head to look off to the side, jaw clenched. “Yeah, but that’s—"

“If you tell me it’s different because I’m human we’re going to have problems.”

A miserable sort of screech leaves his throat and makes Briar’s own ache in sympathy.

“Why you gotta be so stubborn?” His head lifts to glare at them and then they’re in his arms, wrapped up in his embrace with their head tucked under his chin. “Stop stickin’ your neck out for others and worry about yourself, ya hear?”

Their arms wrap around his waist. “That’s impossible. Someone has to keep the lot of you from self-destructing.”

He huffs into their hair and makes a show out of complaining. The tension is easing out of his shoulders, spine relaxing from its rigid position. 

“So we’re alright?” Briar asks softly.

“Yeah.” He sighs and presses a kiss to the skin where his seal sits. “We’re alright. Just talk to me before you do somethin’ like this, okay? It’s not fun to be blindsided.”

“I will. I’m sorry it happened like this; I didn’t think Lucifer would escalate it so quickly.”

“It’s _Lucifer_.”

Briar laughs, sunshine on their tongue for the first time since entering the kitchen. “I see your point. Ready to go join Levi and Belphie?”

“Only if you change, you reek of Lucifer.” His nose wrinkles when they separate. “I don’t wanna cuddle with Lucifer, even in spirit.”

“Really? I’ve seen you two cuddle in your sleep,” Briar teases as they hop up onto his back for a ride back to their room. “you always seem pretty cozy.”

They can feel his blush radiating heat out from his cheeks as they hook their chin over his shoulder. “That doesn’t count! What happens during sleepovers stays with sleepovers!”

“Whatever you say. The pictures were pretty cute, though.”

He makes a sound of outrage and jostles them until they squeak. “Ya better delete them when I put you down! Or I’ll tell Lucifer!”

“You’ll tell him that you like cuddling with him?”

“Why you—!”

Their laughter rings through the halls until they’re practically crying with it. They’re still wheezing when they change into one of Mammon’s shirts and a pair of Belphie’s sweatpants.

Levi and Belphie look up when they enter the room to stare at the two of them.

Mammon is flushed and scowling halfheartedly, while Briar still has tear tracks on their cheeks.

“And people say I’m weird,” Leviathan mutters.

“That’s because you are,” Belphegor points out.

Briar flops down next to him on the nest of blankets and pillows they’d convinced Levi to keep around for squad activities. “What’re we playing?”

“Levi couldn’t pick. He kept panicking about what was appropriate.”

Leviathan blushes and kicks at Belphegor’s shin for the call out. “I just didn’t want to ruin the mood!”

“Well, what are the options?” Briar sits up some so Mammon can prop them up against his chest. They lean back into his shoulder as Belphegor makes himself comfortable between their legs.

“ _Shadow Spirit Fire Fox Edition_ or _Haunted Nights and Cannibal Frights_.”

“Haunted Nights and Cannibal Frights?” Briar makes an amused sound and looks up at Mammon who shrugs.

“Mammon is funny when he’s scared,” Belphie yawns and wiggles closer. “I told Levi he should go for that one.”

“Alright, alright, I get the point.” Leviathan grumbles as he puts the disc in before handing Briar a controller. He takes up their free side to cuddle close, blanketing them in warmth from all sides. “Did you remember to order Mammon to stay?”

“Oh right.” Briar logs in to their profile. “Mammon, I command you to stay by my side.”

There’s a shimmer of power before Mammon shudders. “Got it,” he mumbles. “wasn’t plannin’ on leavin’ anyways.”

Briar presses a kiss to the hand that’s resting by their shoulder before starting up the initial story sequence. “Levi, you’re my tap in if this gets bad.”

He smirks. “Whatever you say, normie.”

“Just don’t scream in my ear,” Belphegor requests. “you can hug me if you need to.”

Briar drops a kiss to the top of his head in thanks before leaning over to kiss Levi’s nose before he can pout. He sputters, face going scarlet all at once. Briar snickers and focuses back on the TV screen.

* * *

“Oh fuck, I told you that these people were cannibals! No one with a locked-up barn with creepy noises is a normal eater!”

“He’s behind ya’!” Mammon yells even as he hides behind their hair. “Get to the woods!”

“ROFL, don’t listen to him, grab the pitchfork and stab him before he can grab the gun.”

Briar makes a frantic dash to do just that and takes a moment to breathe heavily when the man is finally dead. “Cannibals!” They repeat. “You said this was a safe place, but I knew! _Cannibals_ , Mammon!”

“Do you think humans’ taste like chicken to other humans?” Belphegor muses, ever the picture of calm. “That was the rumor going around when I was last in the human world.”

“I’m probably going to regret this,” Briar says slowly. “but, what do humans taste like to demons?”

“Well—”

“Guys!” Leviathan’s voice is frantic enough to get their attention, moments before Briar senses something dark gathering around Mammon.

Briar hurries to nudge Belphegor out of their lap before Mammon crumples onto his side with a painful cry. “Mammon?!”

He shakes against the pillows, skin already breaking out into a sweat as he transforms. It doesn’t seem voluntary, not with the way he tries to curl in on himself. His wings spasm as one of his hands claws at the floor while the other clutches at Briar.

“Mammon, tell me what’s wrong!” Briar tries to turn him to meet his eyes. They’re met with an expanse of white instead. There’s no sign of his normal bright gaze, only tears and rolling whites. They look up at Leviathan and Belphegor frantically. “What do we do?!”

“It must be his pacts. They’re probably calling for him.” Belphegor frowns. “You should strengthen your command, just in case.”

“You think they could break through Briar’s order?”

“It’s possible, there are more of them, after all.”

“That means the others are there, though, right? It should end soon.” Briar’s chest aches as Mammon lets out another pained shriek.

“That’s assuming they’re all together. Covens don’t always stay close. Sometimes they only meet for rituals and ceremonies.”

Belphegor’s level tone isn’t comforting, not this time.

Mammon lurches towards the door before he crumples back down. His tail wraps tight around Briar. “Don’t—” his spine arches to a painful degree before he collapses back down with a horrible choking noise. “don’t let me go.”

“I’m not,” Briar promises. Their voice wavers, tears pricking their eyes as his pain leaks out into the room.

“Command me,” he gasps.

“But—”

**“Do it now!”**

“Mammon,” they start hesitantly. “I command you to stay by my side.”

A groan bubbles up from his chest. More pain floods the air around them, wrapping tight around Briar’s throat.

“It’s making it worse!”

Leviathan curses and scrambles for his phone. “This is why Satan should be here, he’s the one with all the knowledge—”

“Briar.” Belphegor meets their eyes with an expression serious enough it reminds Briar of the early days, when he’d still been trying to make up for the mistakes of the past. “You remember the way I use my power to soothe you, right? Try doing that to Mammon.”

Their eyes dart down to Mammon, whose cries are turning more and more into animal-like shrieks. “I’ll try.”

It’s a struggle to pull Mammon’s head into their lap but they manage. Their hands cup his face before they close their eyes.

“Breathe. You can feel his distress, all you have to do is blanket it. You don’t have to make it go away; you only have to make it distant.”

“Distant,” Briar echoes.

They reach out for the tendrils of pain wrapping around Mammon’s aura and do their best to will their own buffer in between them. They loosen ever so slightly and Mammon heaves in breath like a man that’d almost drowned. It’s not enough though, not nearly enough.

Anger wells up in them at the sight of someone else’s influence on their demons; at the _nerve_ of them trying to use it to cause harm.

“Briar,” someone says distantly.

There’s always a seed to the roots. Roots don’t grow from nothing, after all. There’s life, leeching off of Mammon like some sort of parasite. Briar only has to find it.

Mammon’s very essence shies away from them at first before it realizes Briar is friend and not foe. It’s like a puppy then, crowding close against the stain of an unwanted pact. There are several seeds forming the root system of pain, all crowded together and trying to take Briar’s demon away from them.

They reach out for the first one and squeeze curiously. Mammon whimpers when it crumbles to dust.

“Shh,” they say distantly. “stay with me, Mammon, it’s alright.”

The second is off to the side like the first and crumples just as easily. The others though, are so tight together that they’re almost one.

Briar frowns when trying to pull at them doesn’t work. They’re rooted in deep and it’s going to take more than a simple squeeze. They go for the roots instead. There are hundreds of them, but Briar doesn’t have a time limit. All they have is a need to protect and keep safe, no matter the cost.

_“Briar—!”_

They tear mindlessly at the system, causing sparks of feedback to reverberate back into their own body. Distantly, they’re aware that Mammon isn’t crying anymore and that their body is the one in distress now. However, it’s like looking through a mirror. There is no connection, no sensation. Only a mild sense of _knowing_ that isn’t enough to get them to stop.

The third seed separates from the group after a good yank of its roots. Briar grasps it in their hands and pulls it too, until its nothing more than a faint pulse in their palm. Squeezing it doesn’t work so instead they stomp. 

What could have been a scream echoes in the distance; Briar pays it no mind.

There are two more to go.

They’re impossibly tangled together, enough to frustrate. It’s taking too long, Mammon is still in pain and somewhere out there there are people who think they have the _right_ to his power, his soul.

**Wrong.**

Briar will make sure they know just how very mistaken they are.

They tear at the fourth seed with newfound claws and teeth. There are flashes of images; Mammon looking painfully young; a dark forest; a circle of blood; screaming, always screaming while they laugh—

 **“Mine,”** Briar snarls as the fourth crumbles to dust.

Something is shaking them, threatening to take them away before the job is done. They push it away and reach for the fifth and final seed.

This time there is a house, a circle. Fear and the shadows of predators in the distance.

 _“Come now, little lambs, don’t you want to play with me?”_ Asmodeus. _“I promise to make you **scream**.”_

“Where is that useless demon?!” Someone hisses. “When I get my hands on him, I’m going to skin him alive!”

Briar blinks and between one moment and the next they’re at the edge of the protective circle, staring out into the forest. Something flashes and then two wide black eyes are on their own.

“Briar?” Satan breathes.

Their smile is full of knives as they ever so slowly drag their foot through the circle’s edge. The magic sputters and dies, leaving nothing but an eerie silence behind.

“Make them suffer,” they whisper into Satan’s ear.

Somewhere else, Briar takes the fifth seed, opens their mouth and **devours** it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was probably one of my favorite chapters to write, I have big plans for the future <3
> 
> Comments are, as always, appreciated! (bonus points to those that can figure out what Briar did and the possible consequences)


	8. Loss and Gain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An accurate representation of me writing this chapter:
> 
> YOU get a moment! and YOU get a moment! EVERYONE GETS A MOMENT! 
> 
> Seriously though thank you to everyone who has left such lovely and supportive comments it's all due to you that this chapter came out as quickly as it did <3

Briar wakes up slowly, and with great difficulty. Their body feels heavy in a way that is familiar and yet not. They know depression and the absolute lethargy that can come with it, but this is different. Their bones feel like lead beneath their skin; something living and aware crawls down into their chest and carves itself out a hole.

Their ears ring with a distant pitch that they later realize is them screaming. They can’t move despite the pain that wracks their body. They’re bolted to the ground with no escape.

“Briar,” someone says from above them.

“It hurts,” they try to tell them. It hurts _ithurts **ithurts**_ —

“Diavolo! **Do** **something**!”

They choke on air, on blood, on the very essence that lingers above them. There’s glue in their airways, sludge in their nose, on their tongue. Why can’t they see it, _why can’t they clean it away?_

“Go to sleep,” someone commands.

Their eyes close and the pain ends.

* * *

When they open their eyes it’s to a light so bright, they’re sure they’re going blind. Somehow, they sit up, hands clawing at their face for relief. Closing their eyes doesn’t work, nor does pressing their palms over their sockets.

“Briar, you’re hurting yourself!”

They fight the hands around their wrists but they’re powerless against whatever strength their owner wields.

“Please!” Their head twists, struggling to shove their face into whatever surface is below them. “It’s too bright, turn it off—!”

“The lights are already off—”

The light dims for a moment as if accepting the words. It begins to slip away from Briar’s right eye, like a liquid they can’t seem to blink away. For a moment it’s better, if only a little. Then it all pools in their left.

They have a single moment of suspended fear; one eye in darkness and the other too close to the sun. Then the light presses forward.

Something splatters against their cheek and trails down the curve of their temple. Briar chokes on nothing and everything all at once.

“Fuck!” There’s a shout and then the sound of running footsteps. “I don’t know what to do, help them—”

_‘You’ll go blind if you look at the sun for too long,’_ Briar’s father had said once. He’d never mentioned what to do if the sun looked at you instead.

“I’ll take the belt!” Briar gasps, screams, _cries_ —it’s all the same. “I’ll take the broken glass and the dark, just please—no more of this!”

_‘You deserve this,_ ’ someone who sounds suspiciously close to their mother says. _‘stop crying and suck it up. No one cares.’_

_“I’m sorry!_ Whatever I did, I’m sorry! Please stop hurting me!”

**“Make it stop!”**

Something touches their forehead and Briar fades into unconsciousness once more.

* * *

Briar is sitting up and reaching blindly for something before they can even fully comprehend that they’re awake. Their mind reboots slowly and when they finally open their eyes it’s to find their hand running through familiar silver locks.

They frown and lift their other hand up to their face. They discover the cause for the lack of sight in their left eye is a series of bandages.

“You’re awake.”

They turn their head to see Barbatos looking—almost tired. He gives a familiar bland smile.

“Or should I say alert? You’ve been awake a few times now, though I must confess they haven’t been all that pleasant for anyone involved.”

The first time they try to talk their voice comes out in the form of a painful rasp of air. Barbatos pours them a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and they down it gladly. Their throat feels raw, like they’ve somehow caught a cold and simultaneously swallowed buckets of saltwater for hours.

“Where am I?” They finally whisper.

“You’re in Lord Diavolo’s private guest room. You were rushed over here after you overexerted yourself.”

Briar’s eye drops to Mammon, who’s passed out with his torso across their legs. He looks healthier and lacking in pain. There’re bruises beneath his eyes though, and a concerned frown on his lips that even sleep can’t erase. “What—happened? Did everyone make it back okay?”

“The hunt for the witches was successful, thanks to you.”

Their head lifts in surprise to find him watching them with a knowing gaze. “If I may be frank with you?”

Briar nods and gestures for him to go on.

“When Belphegor tried to coach you into easing Mammon’s strain you were sucked into the pact you share. His greed consumed you and you grew enraged at the fact that someone else was causing him pain. You took his pain into yourself and tore the pacts apart. In the process, you consumed one soul.”

Briar’s hands shake. “ _Consumed_?”

Barbatos steps forward to take the glass from them before they can spill it. Under their hand Mammon stirs with a groan. He sees Barbatos first and squints tiredly.

“S’it mornin’ already?” He yawns, jaw cracking with the force. “Where’s Simeon?”

“Not quite. I merely came to make sure Briar woke up to someone alert.”

Mammon shoots upright at that, wide eyes turning to meet Briar’s one.

“Briar,” he breathes. His hand lifts to touch their face before it drops halfway; he looks like he’s either going to cry or scream. “is it really you?”

They cough into a hand and feel just how weak their body is for the first time. “What’s that—supposed to mean?”

Barbatos helps them drink a few more sips of water before propping their pillows up. “Your body was pushed to its limits due to your actions. It’s been almost a week of healing to get to this point.”

Briar gapes at the two of them, waiting for a punchline. Their stomach sinks when none comes. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Diavolo had to practically drag Lucifer away when you started—screamin’ and bleedin’ all over the place. Lucifer didn’t think the others could handle it, so he made them come too.”

“And you?” Briar frowns as they reach out to brush his hair back from his face. “Why are you here?”

Mammon shoots them a look that screams disbelief.

“I’ll step out and inform Lord Diavolo that you’re awake,” Barbatos says before disappearing out the door.

“You—” Mammon stops to grind his teeth, fingers flexing against the bed. “you took my pain, broke my pacts and—you expect me not to be here?”

“That’s not what I—”

_“YOU ALMOST DIED FOR ME!”_

Briar stares at him with a wide eye, mouth parted around words that can’t seem to come out. He’s panting, emotion so clear in his taunt body Briar aches just looking at him.

“You almost died in my arms,” he repeats, softer this time. “again.”

“Oh.”

_Oh_.

Regret twists in their chest as they realize just what they’ve done. Mammon, good, sweet, Mammon who had been so traumatized by Belphegor killing their alternate self, had been forced to watch them suffer, all while not knowing if they’d survive.

“You couldn’t leave because of the pact and no one else has been here.” Briar feels tears sting their eyes. “Oh, Mammon, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—don’t apologize, you idiot, I just—” he lifts a hand to scrub at his eyes, voice wavering.

They hold their arms out and then he’s there. The sobs start off pained and shaky. It’s obvious he’s trying to hold back, and Briar knows from experience how painful that can be. “Shh, baby, it’s alright. It’s just us. I’m here.”

He practically wails into their shoulder. His control is gone after that as he stains their shirt in tears. Briar strokes his hair through it, arms wrapped as tight around him as their weak body can manage. They mumble soft reassurances and sappy sentiments that would make him blush in any other setting.

They’re aware that they’re crying too, but Briar is far too focused on Mammon who has most definitely been suffering from PTSD the entire time they’ve been asleep.

“You kept beggin’ us to stop hurtin’ ya,” he mumbles into their shoulder. “you were so scared and ya kept cryin’ and bleedin’—I couldn’t do anythin’ it was horrible.” 

Briar closes their eye as their chest shakes with a sob entirely for him. “I’m sorry you had to see that, that’s not something I’m proud of.”

He shakes his head as his wings wrap them up into a cocoon of comfort. “It makes me so mad,” he starts slowly. “ _so mad_ that someone out there hurt you. I want to rip them apart.”

They let out a wet laugh. “Believe me, Mammon, I’ve imagined getting revenge. They’re not worth it.”

A hissing sort of screech makes its way out of his throat. He sniffles into their neck and grimaces when he pulls back to wipe at his nose. “You up for a shower? You need a new shirt.”

Briar smiles gently. “Only if my first man is willing to carry me. I release your previous commands.”

Mammon stands with a sliver of his normal bravado and scoops them up into his arms. He freezes when they wince but they’re quick to wave away his concern.

“I’m okay, just sore. It feels like I tried to keep up with Beel at the gym.”

“He puts even you to shame,” Mammon agrees with a crooked smile.

“He’s a demon, I think he has an unfair advantage.” Briar makes a show out of pouting until they can’t resist tasting his smile. “I love you. I’m glad you’re still here and not in the clutches of those witches.”

He blushes and shifts their weight to one arm to turn on the shower. He sets them down on the sink counter before helping them strip. “It’s all because of you.” He presses a kiss to their palm, then to their wrist.

Their heart catches in their throat when he continues the line up their arm and over their shoulder, before finally pressing a feather light kiss to their hidden left eye’s bandages.

“I’m goin’ to take this off, okay? Keep your eye closed.”

They nod and lean forward to let him at the back of their head. “What’s the damage?” They try to joke when the bandages fall away. There’re rusty stains on the fabric that they try not to dwell on. “Am I blind?”

Mammon’s fingers brush against their cheek. “No, Simeon said you’d still be able to see and Diavolo made sure the doctors made it a priority. It just has to heal, that’s all.”

Briar turns their head to press a kiss to his fingers. “That’s good. I don’t think I could pull off an eyepatch.”

His eyes roll before he sheds his own clothes. “Do ya always have to pretend you’re not breakable?”

“Always,” they agree solemnly. “it would ruin my edgy reputation if I didn’t. Speaking of which, I need to find my phone after this and make sure no one else needs breakdown cuddles.”

He scoops them up into his arm to carry them into the shower. The steam envelopes them immediately and they let out a content sigh when the water hits their back.

“I’ll get ya your phone s’ long as you promise not to do anythin’ stupid.”

“I’m insulted by the assumption that I would.” They ruffle his hair teasingly, all too content to rest in his arms under the warm spray. “We should go on a vacation, after this.”

“After everyone lets ya out of their sight, you mean.”

“Exactly.” They tap his nose. “We should go somewhere, just the two of us. We deserve it. Maybe Lucifer will let us take one of your cars for a road trip.”

He blinks owlishly. “You want to take one of my cars for a road trip?”

“I mean, that’s what cars are for.” They shrug. “I’ve wanted to see you drive one of them. I bet you’d look hot.”

“What—you’re weird.” He huffs and sits down on the shower bench to start working soap over their skin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Briar lets out a happy noise, content to let him run his hands over their body. They’re aware that he’s doing more than cleaning; he’s reassuring himself that they’re actually alright, that they’re real and next to him. “You’re the best.”

He squirms in place and guides them down to sit between his legs. They tip their head back and close their eye as he works shampoo into their hair. “Would ya stop praisin’ me, already? I didn’t do anythin’.”

“False. Incorrect.” They wave a hand. “You’re the best first man I could ask for and I’ll fight anyone who tries to say otherwise. Including you.”

His fingers massage their scalp; they practically purr. “You just woke up from a _coma_ , you’re not fightin’ anyone.” 

Briar pouts. “Not even in a sexy way?”

Mammon groans. He sounds like Lucifer when he’s entirely too exasperated at whatever’s going on; the resemblance has them biting back laughter. “I’ll leave that lecture for Lucifer.”

Briar sits still while he works out the suds in their hair. “Lucifer,” they repeat quietly. “how bad is it?”

There’s nothing but the sound of the spray against the tiles and the opening of a conditioner bottle for a few long moments. Mammon’s hands return to their hair to work it through the ends just like Asmodeus has taught him. “I haven’t seen him in person for a couple of days. I’ve been textin’ everyone updates but it’s—they’re worried and scared. We almost lost you. _Again_.”

Briar’s chest twists. “Are Belphie and Beel—coping?”

He helps them stand and brushes the water out of their good eye. He’s somber when they look at him, a frown twisting his lips. “Everyone is worried,” he repeats.

That does not bode well.

They have to fight the urge to gather all their things and run home to be around their boys. It hurts to think of them all alone and scared, especially when it’s Briar’s own doing. Briar sighs, exhaustion and anxiety sinking into their bones.

Mammon guides them out of the shower to dry them off. They wrap their hair up into a towel before he helps them into a shirt that they know is Beel’s. Their eyes light up when they see Lucifer’s coat in the bag someone has packed them, and they quickly drape it around their shoulders.

The mirror is too foggy to see their reflection before Mammon carries them back out into the bedroom. He takes them to the sitting room beside it when they request it and they settle down into a plush couch with a happy sigh.

There’s a knock on the door moments after they’ve settled. When Briar calls for whoever it is to come in, they see Barbatos with Diavolo and Simeon in tow.

“Briar,” Diavolo says with a relief that they probably shouldn’t find so surprising. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You had us all worried.”

Simeon looks tired when he moves to take their hands into his own. His eyes close before a gentle light seems to envelop his skin. Briar feels something warm encompass their body before the light dies. A breath of relief escapes his lips when he opens his eyes.

“You’re finally settled, lamb.” Simeon fixes them with a wry smile. “Do try to give an ample warning the next time you decide to commit a corruption of your soul.”

Briar’s brain stutters and stalls over that. They simply breathe through the spike of anxiety and do their best to ignore it. “I’ll make sure to pencil it in, right next to the memo ‘things I never thought an angel would say to me.’”

Barbatos places a tray of food down on the coffee table in front of them. Briar’s stomach immediately roars to life with a vengeance. They reach out for it blindly and bring the first thing they touch to their lips.

“So they’re fine now?” Mammon says impatiently. “The fits and bleedin’ are all over with?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Simeon shares a look with Barbatos and Diavolo. “For now, Briar should be safe.”

“Should?” He repeats skeptically. “That’s real comfortin’—”

“Lucifer is on his way; he should be here any minute.” Diavolo cuts in smoothly. “I informed him that Briar is awake but I’m sure it would do him some good to see you face to face. He was worried.”

It’s not very subtle. Mammon tenses for a fight before Briar places a hand on his thigh. “It’s okay,” they say softly. “go check in with Lucifer, I’m not going anywhere. If something happens, I’ll call for you right away.”

His mouth opens to argue before he snaps it shut with an angry sound. “You better.” He squeezes an arm around their shoulders as if to reassure himself that they truly are real; Briar tips their head up to steal a kiss.

“Go on,” they coax. “you banned me from fights remember? Even the sexy ones.”

“I said to ask Lucifer,” he corrects even as he forces himself to his feet. He looks slightly dazed from the kiss and his cheeks are flushed when he disappears out the door.

Briar sighs and lets their shoulders drop. “Okay,” they say wearily. “lay it on me. I don’t know how long he’ll actually stay away.”

Simeon moves from kneeling to sitting by their side. Diavolo takes the chair beside them and Barbatos takes the loveseat.

“You haven’t seen yourself yet, have you?”

Briar shakes their head at Simeon.

He lifts a hand to the eye they’ve managed to keep closed and traces his fingers along the top of their cheekbone. “You can open your eye now, lamb. It’s healed.”

“Then why—?” They frown as they cut themselves off. There are far more pressing matters, after all. They open their eye slowly, squinting against the sudden influx of light. Something shifts strangely and the room dims until its manageable. The world looks different from the left, sharper and more focused.

Barbatos holds a mirror out and then they see it.

For a moment they’re sure that Lucifer has somehow snuck up behind them. But then there’s no explanation for why his eye is on their face, why it’s the only feature not their own. Which simply means that the crimson iris is their own.

“How—” they lift a hand up to feel around the skin. There are faint black lines on their eyelid, spiderwebbing out to burrow back into hiding before they reach their eyebrow. They’re in the whites of their eye too, when Briar leans closer. So faint they’re barely there.

They breathe through the panic of the unknown for a few long moments. Belphie isn’t close by to help soothe them, which has them reaching out for their pacts for comfort—except.

Except.

Briar’s head jolts upright as realization crosses their face. Their hands fly to their skin, where their pact marks still sit. There is no feedback when their fingers make contact and with a rising sense of horror, they realize they can’t sense and taste the emotions in the room.

They hadn’t noticed around Mammon, not when he’d been so close.

_How hadn’t they noticed?_

“Breathe, Briar.” Simeon’s hand touches their hair. Briar startles with a wounded sound that makes him pause.

“They’re—I can’t—” they shake faintly, unsure of just what they’re trying to convey.

_I can’t feel them,_ they scream internally. _Where are they?_

And then:

_What have I done?_

Their emotions close tight around their throat. There’s fear in their chest, clawing its way through their veins with a ferocity that makes them shake. A noose tightens around their neck, until it gets harder and harder to breathe.

Briar presses a hand to their chest in a fruitless attempt to ease the phantom pressure on their lungs.

“Briar, I need you to listen to me—”

“—Lucifer—?”

Their thoughts zero in on the name with an animal desperation. Lucifer. Lucifer was supposed to be somewhere in the castle, with Mammon. He would know about the others; he would be able to tell them if they were still wanted.

Someone cries out in surprise as Briar bolts for the door. They’re demons, they could obviously stop a human, but no one tries to grab them. The doors slam into the wall with the force that they careen through them.

There are voices down the hall, a distant wave of sound that goes in one ear and out the next without any real register of words. They head towards it because they have no other real plan and let out an almost animalistic cry when their eyes fall on the two people they want to see.

Lucifer and Mammon whirl to stare at them with wide eyes. Briar staggers towards them, heaving for breath as the tears finally come.

Someone catches them as sobs wrack their weakening body. “I ruined it,” they wail to no one in particular. They guess it’s a good thing they’ve been cut off from whatever bonds they’ve worked so hard to forge; their grief is surely no pretty thing.

There’s a rock lodged in their throat, preventing them from taking in any real breath. It causes their air to catch and wheeze, until they can’t tell the difference between the coughing gasps and any real oxygen intake.

Someone says something over the rush in their ears. They’re eased to—the ground?

“I ruined it,” Briar whispers again. _“I always ruin it. So stupid, selfish, I deserve it—”_

**“Enough.”**

Hands catch their cheeks and force their head up. They can’t see through the sheen of tears for a few long moments, then a blurry red gaze finally seems to register.

“I’m sorry,” they say immediately. It’s a habit they’ve worked so hard to get rid of, to keep hidden. No one wants to hear them beg for something even they can’t understand. No one wants to know how scared they are deep inside, how broken and ruined they feel. Then again, it doesn’t matter if anyone knows now, does it? They’ve ruined everything regardless.

“You haven’t ruined anything,” a voice they recognize as Lucifer’s snarls.

“Breathe,” someone else says from behind them. The owner presses up against their back and a strand of silver catches their eye.

Mammon?

“Mammon?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He squeezes their waist while Lucifer wipes the seemingly endless wave of tears away again and again.

“Breathe,” Lucifer says now that they’re registering voices. “ _Breathe_ , Briar.”

Briar does and promptly erupts into a coughing fit all over again. They shake as they hunch over, heaving into Lucifer’s lap and probably leaving behind tears, snot and spit. The thought makes them wail before Lucifer shushes them.

“There’s water.” Mammon lifts it to their lips when they manage to lift their head. They tremble weakly against Lucifer’s shoulder and open their mouth to take a sip that would make Beelzebub sad. They’re still breathing heavy, breath catching in their chest every now and then between tiny drinks of water.

“That’s it, dearest.” Lucifer runs a hand through their hair. His wings are melded together with Mammon’s into a cocoon that keeps the rest of the world out. It relaxes the part of Briar that bristles at being seen so vulnerable.

“I can’t feel you,” Briar blubbers. They paw at their neck where Mammon’s mark sits and then at Lucifer’s on their thigh. “Do you—do you still want me? I didn’t mean to break it—”

“The hell?” Mammon practically squawks in offense. “’course we want you.”

Lucifer’s wings part enough that he can glare over Briar’s head. “ **Explain.”**

“A simple seal was placed on Briar to prevent their powers from ripping them apart while their body and soul settled.”

Briar stiffens at the sound of Diavolo’s voice and hides their face in Lucifer’s shoulder with a soft whimper. His arms tighten around their shoulders as Mammon presses closer.

“It’s not permanent,” Diavolo adds. “I’m sorry, Briar, I should have led with that. I didn’t anticipate how much distress it would cause.”

They don’t turn their head, far too ashamed by their current state to face him. It’s bad enough Lucifer and Mammon are seeing them like this, let alone the _future king_.

“I’ll return to Barbatos and Simeon, come back when you’re all ready.”

“He’s gone,” Lucifer says into Briar’s hair; they immediately relax.

They sniffle and take a shuddering breath. “I’m a mess,” they say miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, except putting your life at risk.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t really know what I did.” The rock in their throat is almost completely gone, though the tightness in their chest remains. Something lightning and restless travels through their veins and makes them shaky.

“They didn’t tell me much,” Mammon says gruffly. “was more concerned in makin’ sure ya didn’t claw your own eye out.”

Briar rubs at their nose. They just barely bite back another apology. “I just wanted to protect you.”

Lucifer’s wings rustle as he lets out a sigh. His fingers card through their hair, touch painfully gentle. “You’re far more fragile than us. We’re just as desperate not to lose you as you are not to lose us. You’re family.”

“Forever,” Mammon agrees.

“Even though I’m like—this?”

“We’re demons,” Lucifer reminds. “there is little you could do that would make us see anything other than your beauty.”

Briar lets out a whimpering sort of laugh. “I want to see the others,” they admit. “can I come home after this?”

The arms around them tighten as Lucifer and Mammon share a look over their shoulder.

“Lucifer?”

He must notice the tremor in their voice; the way their anxiety spikes. “I’ll make sure you see the others. We need to speak with Diavolo and Simeon first before we can take you anywhere.”

It’s not an answer, not really, but Briar is too drained to press. They nod and give another miserable sniffle. “I guess we might as well go back now that everyone knows how much of a baby I am.”

“You’re not a baby.” Mammon detaches from their back reluctantly while Lucifer scoops them up into his arms. “Ya didn’t call me a baby, earlier.”

Briar frowns. “You dealt with PTSD on your own—”

“And you almost dyin’ and thinkin’ we don’t want ya isn’t a good enough reason to cry?”

Their mouth closes as they consider that. Finally, Briar lets out a soft huff. “Tell him to stop pointing how how hypocritical I am, it’s rude.”

Lucifer’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “He’s right, for once. You’re allowed to feel things.”

“Excuse me?” Briar meets Mammon’s eyes over Lucifer’s shoulder and gives a ‘can you believe this’ gesture. “This coming from pride himself? Pot meet kettle.”

Mammon snickers into his hand.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that phrase. I’m assuming it’s an insult which means you’re lucky I’m unaware.”

“Oohh.” Briar smirks, fully aware that they’re repressing but far too eager to regain some composure to care. “Big words. Mammon banned me from sexy fighting, though. He’s a real cockblock.”

“I did not! And why do you gotta keep callin’ it that?!”

“The tango in the sheets?” Briar offers.

_“What?”_

“You’re right, that does sound kind of ridiculous. What about make butter with one’s tail?”

Mammon sputters.

“Horizontal refreshment?”

The door opens in time for the inhabitants inside to catch Briar’s laughter as Mammon’s face goes scarlet. Simeon and Diavolo look relieved while Barbatos is—Barbatos. Looking at him, Briar gets a thought entirely spurred on by their emotional exhaustion and general acceptance that they can sink no lower in reputation to everyone in the room.

“I bet Barbatos knows that one.” Briar grins over at him. “Why don’t you ask him, Mammon?”

Mammon shakes his head wildly while Lucifer makes a poorly disguised effort to hide his amusement. Briar’s grin widens as Lucifer sets them down on the couch before taking the seat beside them. Mammon takes their other side.

“What’s the question?” Barbatos asks, though there’s a gleam in his eyes that tells them he already knows.

“Are you familiar with horizontal refreshment?”

The corner of Barbatos’ mouth twitches. “Yes, I’ve dabbled from time to time.”

Simeon leans forward curiously. “I must confess I don’t know this saying. What does it mean?”

Briar looks between him and then Diavolo who nods in agreement. They both look so innocently curious that they can’t resist. “It’s a euphemism for sex. Barbatos just confirmed that he’s done it before.” They shrug. “There were rumors, it’s good to know the answer finally.”

“There were rumors about my sex life?” Barbatos says, as if he isn’t aware of everything that goes on at RAD.

“You’re hot, you’re always put together and—why am I saying this?” They frown over at Mammon who is still trying to hide his flushed face. “Did you put some sort of truth serum in my drink or have I really given up all my fucks?”

“The second,” Lucifer says with fond exasperation. “can we get to the topic at hand—”

“I must say, you humans have such interesting terms for things,” Diavolo beams. “you’ll have to educate me on more of your slang sometime.”

Briar blinks slowly at him. They can see the flecks of gold in his irises from their left eye. The panes of his face are so much sharper and now that they’re looking, they can see just how impossibly handsome he truly is—not that he isn’t always. “Sure,” they say faintly. “has he always looked like that?”

Lucifer turns to face them, and they’re struck all over again by the sight.

“Fuck, no wonder everyone is always talking about how beautiful you are. You were already pretty with human eyesight, but now it’s even worse—better?” Briar feels their cheeks flush, aware that they’re making a fool of themselves and unable to stop. This is why they hate being emotional, it always lowers all their walls and filters. “I get it now.”

His cheeks are dusted in pink as he clears his throat. “Ah, thank you. But we really should discuss what we came here for.”

Briar nods and tries not to look too closely at anyone else. Especially not Simeon’s painfully sinful attire. He’s tempting enough without their newfound demon sight pointing out just how truly flawless he is.

“Ah yes.” Diavolo straightens. “Briar, Barbatos has looked into the events using his powers but I think we’d all like to hear what happened through your eyes.”

They grimace and reach out for Mammon’s hand. He meets them halfway to twine their fingers together. “We were in Levi’s room waiting for the others to come back when Mammon doubled over in pain. Belphie said that it was probably orders from the witches fighting with my own and they both told me to strengthen the order again.”

Briar’s eyes glaze over as they think back to the way Mammon had curled into himself; they don’t think they’ll ever forget the inhuman cries that had escaped his lips. “Belphie suggested that I try to calm him down the way that he does me. He coached me through it but it—wasn’t enough.” Their grip tightens on Mammon’s hand as something dark and other flashes in their red eye. “He was still in pain. I could feel them on his soul, could see their filthy magic.”

The reminder makes them sneer, teeth and nails aching to _tear_ all over again.

“They were trying to suck him dry like they had the _right_. I could see the source, so I went for it. It was easy to wipe them from existence once the roots were gone. I crushed the first two seeds and stomped on the third.”

They remember the house, the witches. Remember seeing a creature that was Satan and yet, not.

“I was in the house. They were hiding like cowards, I could hear Asmo. They threatened to skin Mammon, so I broke their circle. I told Satan to make them suffer.”

Something animalistic and inhuman rumbles up from Briar’s throat.

“I hope they did.”

“And the remaining ‘seeds’?”

Briar’s eyes flick over to meet Diavolo’s. Whatever expression is on their face makes something like recognition pass over his own. “I tore one apart and swallowed the other while they screamed.”

Mammon sucks in a sharp breath. The sound is enough to make them blink. Like a spell the tension leaves the room as Briar slumps once more in exhaustion. They lift a hand to rub at their red eye; it throbs faintly.

“Ungh, this sucks.” Briar reaches for the tea Barbatos had made before their breakdown. It’s lukewarm but they enjoy it all the same. They look up to find several pairs of eyes on them. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You just _growled_ ,” Mammon points out. “and talked about murdering someone.”

“One,” Briar says distantly. “I only swallowed one. The others were already dead.” They don’t know how they know that, only that it’s true.

“Your eye lit up,” Lucifer murmurs. “did you feel different?”

“Just—angry. They were bad people. I could hear some of the echoes of what they did to Mammon.” Briar’s hands tighten around their teacup. “No one deserves that. Especially not my family. I wasn’t about to let them get away with it. It’s one thing for someone to hurt me, it’s another for someone to hurt the people I love.”

“I told you ya don’t gotta protect me—”

“And I told you that it doesn’t matter that you’re a demon!” Briar snaps. “I love you, all seven of you, and no matter how strong and powerful you are I would do it again, no matter who it was for. If Lucifer was somehow tricked—yes, I know you’re too prideful for that, humor me—you can be _damn sure_ I would rip apart whoever’s leech’s magic was on him. It has nothing to do with power and everything to do with the fact that I’m never going to let someone I care about suffer the way that I have!”

There’s silence for a few long moments as Briar practically pants with the force of the emotion roiling inside of them. It’s Simeon who reaches out to lay a hand on their knee, eyes soft. Something cool and comforting washes over them, easing their distress.

“You have many hidden wounds,” he says gently. “I do not say that as an insult. It’s admirable that you would seek to protect those around you when you yourself are so hurt. I believe what Mammon is trying to say is that you are dear to him as well, and seeing you suffer for his sake hurts him in turn.”

Mammon lets out a soft huff but doesn’t deny it. “If ya gotta word it like that, geez.”

“This is what I meant when I said we can either let them self-destruct or train them.” Barbatos looks at Lucifer whose expression is unhappy. “You can’t stop the changes to come. You can only prepare and embrace them.”

“You say that like you can’t stop them,” Briar says. “or, sorry, Diavolo can’t.”

They’re aware that they’re sounding particularly waspish and that Barbatos doesn’t exactly deserve it, but they don’t exactly appreciate being treated like an inevitability. Especially not a dangerous one. “You control what realities happen. Don’t pretend like the two of you haven’t chosen the one that works in your best interest. You can pretend to care about me all you want but, in the end,, nothing is really my choice, is it?”

Diavolo’s brow furrows. “Is that what you think?”

Briar fixes him with a glare. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t pick the future that works out the best for you. Tell me that you thought about anyone’s happiness other than your own, let alone _mine_. Tell me that everything you’re doing for me isn’t just a means to an end.”

There’s a long silence, one where Briar can feel how tense Lucifer is beside them, his need to defend Diavolo and his need to hear the answer warring with one another. Mammon’s throat rumbles with a growl the longer the silence drags on.

Briar scoffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“You misunderstand.” Diavolo leans forward. There’s a table between them so his presence really shouldn’t feel as dominating as it is. Briar’s incapable of looking away. “I have Barbatos examine all potential threats, yes. It’s my duty as future king to do so. While Barbatos can control the timeline, I have not had him change yours since Belphegor killed you. All your choices have been your own. Have my actions been entirely unselfish? No.” His hands stretch out, palms raised in a silent sign of apology. “My investment in you is somewhat personal. You matter to Lucifer and his brothers and by default I want to see you safe. However, you’re also a curiosity. An anomaly, if you will. I’m intrigued by you, but I don’t see you as a toy. Far from it.”

“I suppose I should also add that while I know the many futures possible, your choices and those around you are what define them. I may know what could happen but even the slightest action can change the course of history.” Barbatos gives an elegant shrug. “My powers are complicated, but I hope that eases your mind somewhat. If you have questions, we can address them in our future lessons.”

Briar gapes at them both, stunned by their honesty. Barbatos especially has always kept his cards close. They’re unsure what to make of his sudden opening. “I—” the glance at Lucifer, Mammon and Simeon. “thank you. I didn’t—expect that.”

“Your skepticism is understandable,” Diavolo reassures. “I enjoy the fact that you’re willing to speak your mind. I’d like you to keep doing it, especially going forward.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Lucifer shifts at their side, slightly more relaxed now that the tension has eased. “These changes you’ve mentioned; what can we expect moving forward?”

“You know as well as I do that humans aren’t capable of consuming souls, not without dark magic involved. The fact that Briar consumed one and is still alive is unheard of.” Diavolo smiles apologetically. “Anything Barbatos can discern is liable to change based on Briar’s own actions. We can’t know for sure what to expect, only what might.”

“Will I hurt people?” Briar asks quietly. Their eyes are on Barbatos and they force themselves to ignore Mammon’s sound of indignation. “My parents—will I become like them?”

“There is a possibility that you will reach a threshold that you can’t come back from. In that instance, you could very well cause harm to those around you. As for your parents,” his voice softens ever so slightly. “there is no real future where you become them. Your will is too strong and your love too great.”

They’re not sure if he’s saying that to simply comfort but it soothes something in Briar all the same. “Tell me how to stop it.”

“It’s not that easy, lamb.” Simeon frowns down at his hands. “This is uncharted territory, as Diavolo said. We can only do our best to prepare you. The rest depends on you.”

The weight of that drops on Briar’s shoulders, alongside all the other burdens they’ve gathered throughout the years. They’re used to it by now. “What do I have to do?”

“We need to lift the seal on your powers gradually, so your body can adjust once more. You consumed a witch’s soul, which means you took on some of their own power. She was a very old witch too, and one who performed dark magic, so we’ll have to keep an eye on any possible side effects.” Diavolo runs a hand through his hair with a soft sigh. “I’m suggesting you switch to online classes for the time being. It’s too dangerous for you to be around so many demons right now. We’ll need to start lessons immediately and—” he hesitates as he meets Lucifer’s eyes.

“What.”

“It would be best if they stayed here—”

“Absolutely not,” Briar says before Lucifer can say a word. “You want to know what’ll make me snap? Being taken away from my home and all the people I care about. Half the reason I’ve made it so far is because of them. They all help keep me calm and grounded and if you try to keep me here, I can guarantee I’ll sneak out anyways.”

Lucifer wraps a protective arm around their shoulders as Mammon bristles by their side.

“It would be unwise to uproot so much of their life at once, especially with what’s happened.” Simeon’s voice soothes away some of the tension, his presence a blanket of comfort as it always is. “If matters grow worse, we can revisit the idea, right, Briar?”

“Sure,” Briar says reluctantly.

“That’s acceptable,” Diavolo nods. “Simeon has declared you healthy enough to return to the House of Lamentation. I don’t think it wise to lift the seal just yet, we can start in a few days once your body has recovered from being in bed for a week.”

They perk up at the idea of going home. “Thank you. For everything you guys have done.” They set their teacup down and turn pleading eyes on Lucifer. “Can we go now? I want to see the others.”

Diavolo laughs and waves them away before Lucifer can chide them on their rudeness. “Go on, Lucifer. We’ll see each other plenty with all the future holds.”

Mammon stands and Briar follows. “Let’s go home.”

They smile.

“That’s one of the best things you’ve ever said to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect copious amounts of family bonding in the next chapter
> 
> I've also noticed a few comments about certain porn people are missing out on/wanting more of in this fandom so feel free to suggest any kinks/scenarios you might like to see! I promise I am just as thirsty as you are
> 
> (if you want to follow progression of this story or find out more about Briar you can look at the tags 'the making of' and 'mc tag' on apassintohell on tumblr)
> 
> [justalittlebitwitchy drew Briar, Diavolo and her other MC Noel! ](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/616509561424183296/justalittlebitwitchy-was-a-babe-and-drew-briar)
> 
> [Here's Briar normally and in their 'demon form'](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/616220730984644608/couldnt-decide-which-background-looked-better-for)


	9. Shifting Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a bitch and did not go where I originally wanted it to go  
> I am offended

Returning to the House of Lamentation solidifies the thought that Briar has been keeping to themself up until now: it’s become their home. Perhaps their first _ever_ home.

Despite the exhaustion that weighs heavy on their shoulders they can’t help the burst of energy that has them darting in front of Lucifer to enter ahead of him.

They can hear voices coming from down the hall. Briar follows the noise before Mammon can shout after them. They come to a stop by the sitting room and peer inside to see exactly what they’d hoped: the rest of their boys waiting anxiously for Lucifer to bring back news.

Briar steps out from the shadows without hesitation to grin at them all. “I’m home!”

All heads turn to them immediately. Beelzebub is up before anyone else to scoop them up into a bone crushing hug. They laugh softly when his face presses into their breasts, hands on his shoulders for balance.

“I missed you too, big guy.” They smooth a hand over his hair fondly before Asmodeus is up and tugging at one of Beelzebub’s arms with a pout.

“Don’t hog them! At least set them down so the rest of us can get in on the cuddles!”

Beel lets out a soft huff. His arms tighten as he considers ignoring his brother altogether before he relents. Briar’s feet touch the ground once more.

Asmo pulls them in close to cup their face in his hands. “Don’t _ever_ do that again! You had me worried sick!” He fuses over the collar of their coat and smoothes back their hair before he freezes. His hand lifts to touch the skin beneath their left eye, his own wide in surprise. “Something tells me this isn’t a stylistic choice.”

Satan peers over his shoulder. Something passes over his face when he meets their eyes, but it’s gone before they can identify it. Without their powers they can’t pursue it, either. Satan keeps his cards far too close to his chest around his brothers to be questioned about it now.

They wonder if he resents the similarity they now share with Lucifer. The thought has a frown twisting their lips.

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” Satan says.

Asmo releases them reluctantly when they push at his chest. They wrap their arms around Satan instead and breathe in the smell of cotton and old books. “I’m sorry,” they say into his ear.

He hums. “For?”

“In the woods, that night.” Briar closes their eyes when a faint throb pulses in their temples. “I ordered you to hurt them.”

“I would have done it regardless.” His hand runs down their back in a warm line. “We can discuss the schematics of it all later. As much as I’d like to whisk you away there are others that need you more.”

Briar pulls back. For all his anger, Satan is rarely selfish unless it is to spite Lucifer. They follow his gaze over to Leviathan, who is hunched up on the couch in his demon form. Briar exchanges a look with Lucifer when he reaches the doorway.

“I’ll update you all on the current events.” His eyes flick over to Leviathan. “We can discuss things in the kitchen while Briar talks to Levi.”

“I’ll make food,” Beel declares. “a week without food isn’t good for you.”

Briar flashes him a warm smile as they all file out. They’re aware of the lingering looks but the concern for Levi—and Belphegor, who is nowhere to be found—outweighs it all.

They approach the couch to take a seat by his feet. Levi has a habit of always looking down when he’s stressed or out of his element. Briar has learned that it’s easier to catch his eyes if they’re already where he would normally look.

They lean their head against his knee slowly, so that he knows what’s coming. Surprising Levi with contact is rarely a good idea, especially when he’s upset.

“Hey,” they say softly. “I missed you.”

His tail flicks once before it loops twice around their waist, wraps around their arm and rests the remainder over their thighs. It’s clear that leaving is not what he wants them to do.

They bump their forehead into his thigh to jostle him slightly. Resting their chin in the same spot has the desired effect of catching his gaze.

He’s already wide eyed from the suggestive position but at the sight of their face surprise causes his lips to go slack. “Your eye,” he blurts. “it’s—I mean—does it hurt?”

Briar runs their fingers along his tail as they offer a soft smile. “It did at first, but Simeon says I’m all better now. I can see better out of it which means I’ll be able to appreciate your room even more.”

He blushes, ever unused to praise. “So, you’re—really okay, then? Lucifer and Mammon wouldn’t really tell me anything and it’s not like Belphie has been around to talk about what happened.”

Briar files away that information for later. They reach up to twine their fingers with his own, body twisting to face him properly. His tail adjusts accordingly before settling. “Do you really want to know all the details?”

“Duh.” He scowls. “I’m not some weak stomach normie. I can handle it.”

They hum. “I don’t remember a lot. After I broke Mammon’s pacts, I remember waking up a couple times in a strange place in more pain than I’ve ever been in in my life. I guess I screamed myself hoarse because my throat is still really sore.”

“You were really in that much pain?” His fingers twitch but he’s unable to wring his hands when one of them is still caught in Briar’s own. Instead, he fidgets with their fingers. “Lucifer wouldn’t let us visit you and I couldn’t really feel you like I usually do. We all thought—”

Briar wiggles their fingers lightly to catch his attention. “Thought what?”

“That you were dying. Satan blew a hole through the dining room wall and almost broke the table when Lucifer told us we couldn’t go see you.” He lets out a miserable sound. “This is all my fault; I should have reacted faster when I sensed something was off. I was completely useless, and you almost died!”

Something in their chest twists and fractures for the second time that day. They’re so painfully tired of their demons placing all the blame on themselves. All they want is for them all to be safe and happy. As of late Briar can only seem to make them feel the opposite.

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that.” Briar straightens some to meet his eyes. They can see the faint sheen of tears building up inside. “I’ve never blamed you and none of this is your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s the witches who started this whole mess.”

“Mammon—”

“Learned his lesson,” Briar says sharply. Their voice softens when he flinches. “He’s been through so much pain since the pacts were made and he never told anyone. While you were here thinking I was dying, he was forced to watch it happen all over again. Please don’t point the blame at him. He’s hurting just as much as the rest of you right now.”

Levi frowns down at their fingers. “It’s just—not fair! I was there too! I should have—done something, should have been at your side instead of sitting around here doing nothing! I haven’t even been able to beat any new levels and I can’t progress in most of the games because I’ve been missing my player number two.”

Briar lifts his hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “I’m here now, I promise. I don’t blame you for anything so try not to blame yourself, okay?” They gesture towards the space beside him. “May I?”

He nods dumbly, face red all over again.

They move slowly so his tail can adjust before they guide his arm around their shoulders. They draw their legs up onto the sofa and lean their weight into his side. Their head finds a place on his chest. “So, you really haven’t been able to game?”

That’s enough to yank him out of his frozen stance. He huffs as the tip of his tail flicks their thigh. “ _No_. You better take responsibility for it, too!”

“We can have a gaming marathon once I stop feeling like I’m going to fall asleep at any moment.”

He pauses. “But you said you’re not—in any pain, right?”

“My head hurts a little but I’m okay otherwise.” Briar muffles a yawn. Now that they’re sitting down and soaking up his warmth their energy is waning. “You think I could nap on you while Lucifer fills the others in? I’ll tell you all the juicy gossip later. I even get to take online classes with you now.”

“Seriously?! OMD that’s like, the best news I’ve heard in weeks!” He sways excitedly before he seems to catch himself, hands fluttering nervously over their body. “Sorry, um, what do you want me to do?”

“You can pet my hair if you want,” Briar mumbles into his chest. “I would kiss you for being so cute, but I don’t want to fall asleep during it. That would be rude. ‘sides I wanna see the look on your face, afterwards.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”

They reach up and pat around blindly for one of his hands. He sputters when their hand makes contact with his face before offering one up voluntarily. They drag it to their hair before letting their own drop back down to their side. “It means you’re cute, duh. I’ve lost a week’s worth of demon kisses and I’m going to end up going through withdrawals.”

His fingers move hesitantly through their hair. They’ve done this before, but not while talking about Briar’s infatuation with them all. If they weren’t so tired, they might be embarrassed.

“Don’t leave, okay?” Briar snuggles closer with a soft sigh. Their eyes close. “Having you around will keep the nightmares away.”

“I won’t,” he whispers. “promise.”

 _Liar,_ something answers.

Briar drifts off to sleep.

* * *

“Briar,” someone calls gently. “your food is here.”

Briar lets out a soft mumble as they snuggle further into Levi’s chest. Their eyes remain closed, unwilling to give up sleep just yet.

“Briar,” they call again. “wake up, love.”

Asmo, then, Briar decides with a lazy yawn. He’s the only one that calls them love. A hand brushes through their hair before cupping their cheek. They nuzzle into the contact and open their eyes.

“I was comfy,” they pout. “Levi is a good pillow.”

Leviathan lets out a strained sound from above them. His tail is gone, which they take as a sign that he’s calmed down. Briar glances up at him to find his cheeks flushed red. They press a kiss to his jaw before sitting up to give a long stretch.

They take the time to look around the room and find all the brothers back in their various spots. Asmodeus nudges them towards the tea and sandwiches Beelzebub made them.

“Thanks, Beel.” Briar smiles over at him as they pick up a half. “Remind me to bake you cookies later.”

“You should be resting,” Lucifer reminds.

“Baking cookies isn’t going to kill me, Lucifer.” They level him with an unimpressed stare. “I know you all think I’m a delicate flower, but I can handle myself. I’ve been through worse.”

“The fact that you have only makes us want to protect you even more, darling.” Asmo touches a hand to their knee. “The possibility of you dying was well—it was hard on all of us. Humor us a little.”

The tension in Briar’s shoulders eases at his honesty. It’s hard sometimes to remind themselves that they don’t have to be so guarded anymore but old habits die hard.

_You’ll die even harder._

Briar frowns. “What was that?”

Asmo’s head tilts to the side. “I said you should humor us?”

“No, there was something else. It was…” They trail off when not a single one of them looks like they know what they’re talking about. Briar shakes their head. “Never mind, I must have misheard.”

“It’s good to see you’re still the same.” Satan flashes a faint smile. “We had our doubts.”

Levi hunches at their side.

“You did?”

“Humans aren’t meant to consume souls, Briar.” Lucifer’s lips press together into a thin line. “There was no telling what effect it would have on you. I find it hard to believe your eye is the only thing that would change.”

 _Smart_ , Briar thinks, before blinking away the thought. Lucifer is usually smart, that’s no surprise.

“Can’t we just enjoy them bein’ back?” Mammon scowls as he slinks over to flop down into the small space between Briar and Asmodeus. “You don’t gotta ruin it so fast.”

“He’s just worried,” Briar soothes. “just like you.”

Mammon grumbles and fends off Asmo’s jab at his ribs. They nearly knock Briar’s tea over before Beel growls. Briar steadies the tray and quickly downs the rest of their drink before anything can happen to invoke Beel’s wrath.

“Where’s Belphie?” They ask now that they’re full. “He’s still not here?”

A silent look passes between all of them before Beelzebub finally speaks. “Belphie is—” he hesitates, brows furrowed. “he’s asleep.”

“Asleep? What do you mean he’s _asleep_? I know he can be grumpy but why can’t we just wake him up?”

“It’s not that simple,” Lucifer sighs.

“Sometimes Belphie shuts down,” Beel says quietly. He rings his hands as his shoulders slump. “after what happened with Lilith he slept for years and only woke up a few times. Seeing you almost die triggered a similar shut down. I haven’t been able to get him up since he went to bed the day after you were taken to Lord Diavolo’s castle.”

“Shut down.” Their voice was faint even to their own ears. They knew that Belphie was the one that had guided them through what to do for Mammon, just as they knew that Levi had been there to help with the fallout.

Their eyes shift to Leviathan to find that his head is bowed low enough that his bangs cover his eyes. His state of earlier upset makes even more sense now if he’s been alone in this.

Briar stands.

“Where is he?”

“Briar—”

“Where. Is. He?” They glare at Lucifer, daring him to try and keep them away. “So, help me Lucifer, if you don’t tell me I’ll tear this house apart looking for him.”

His brow creases as he lifts a hand to rub at his temples. “I know you will. Beel, why don’t you take them? If anyone can do something about this, it’s the two of you.”

Beelzebub nods seriously and stands. The others don’t protest when Briar follows him out; not even Mammon.

That in itself is concerning.

They walk down the hall in silence and climb the stairs. Briar is surprised when they bypass Beel and Belphie’s rooms to head for the attic.

“He knew he wouldn’t be bothered here,” Beel explains quietly. “I don’t think he wanted me to worry.”

Briar reaches out to squeeze his hand.

They come to a stop at the top of the stairs and wait for Beel to locate the light switch.

The light flickers on a few moments later, piercing through the blanket of darkness. Briar hasn’t been up in the attic in quite some time. It brings back memories of their early days in the Devildom, when they’d sympathized with a demon locked away from the world by his own brother. Nothing was ever black and white but unintentionally or not, Belphegor had hit upon one of their weak points. No deserved to be a prisoner in their own house.

There was a mass of blankets and pillows on the bed. They didn’t stir once from the light, nor when Briar approached. Briar glanced back at Beelzebub who smiled sadly before moving to the stairs.

“I’ll be in the hall if you need me.”

“You’re not going to stay?”

He shook his head. “I’m not the one Belphie wants to see. If I was, he would have woken up already.”

Briar didn’t need their powers to feel their chest ache. They turn back to the blankets to peel away the first layer. It takes another two to get the first glimpse of Belphegor’s messy hair. He’s cocooned himself well and it’s difficult to get the sheets down enough to see his face.

There’s a faint furrow to his brow that indicates his sleep might not be as easy as it appears. His chest rises and falls ever so slightly. If he weren’t a demon Briar would be terrified that he was dying.

He’s in demon form. Briar combs the hair back from his face and untangles some of it from around his horns. It’s limper than usual, and a bit oily. For all of Belphegor’s laziness he always makes sure his sheets are clean. It helps him sleep better, or so he’s said.

“What have you been doing to yourself?” They ask sadly.

He doesn’t answer; doesn’t even twitch.

Briar’s hand drops lower to begin the intricate process of extracting their demon from his nest. The blankets and pillows are entangled in one another which makes it very difficult to pull them free. Briar lets out a huff when the pile comes loose, nearly sending them flying out of the bed.

Belphegor’s tail comes free and flops down onto the bed. It twitches slightly when they touch it.

Normally, Belphegor would be awake and snarling at whoever dared to interrupt his sleep. The fact that he is still asleep has Briar’s spirits sinking.

_Maybe he should just die._

Briar scowls at the intrusive thought. They shake their head once before steadying themselves.

“Belphegor, I command you to wake up.”

There is silence for a few long moments, enough for Briar to wonder if their pacts no longer work either.

Then a noise escapes his lips in a rush. His eyes open to stare up at them in a sleepy haze.

“Briar?” He says huskily.

“Belphie.” They smile in relief. “I was afraid that wasn’t going to work.”

“What are you—” he stiffens, posture suddenly going from sleepy to alert. He flies upright to peer into their eyes. His tail slaps against the bed rhythmically. “Are you real?”

“You’re the ruler of dreams,” Briar reminds gently. They reach out to take one of his hands and place it over their heart, where he can feel their pulse. “I’m real. You’ve been asleep for a week. Everyone is worried about you.”

He stares blankly at them for a few long moments before he has them scooped up into his arms in the blink of an eye. “You’re alive,” he breathes into their neck. “Lucifer said—”

“I know.” They card their fingers through his hair with a soft hum. “I came home today. My powers are locked away right now but I’m otherwise okay.”

His tail wraps around their waist. “You stupid human. What were you _thinking_?!”

“I don’t know,” they confess. “I just followed my instincts.”

“Your instincts.” He’s tense in their arms, a live wire with far too much electricity running through his veins. It’s only a matter of time until something gives, Briar can tell that even without their powers. “I told you to subdue him, not to kill yourself!”

“Belphie, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” He snarls beside their ear. “You’re _sorry_?”

Their back hits the mattress as he shoves them down. They let out a surprised sound when they’re left staring up at him. His tail lashes behind him like a whip, eyes narrowed into thin slits. He looks dangerous though Briar knows it’s not them that he’s angry at, not exactly.

“You almost died.” His tail slides up over their side to wrap slowly around their throat. Their breath catches at the contact. “You almost died because of me. _Again_.”

“Belphie.” Briar reaches out to touch a hand to his cheek only to have their hands pinned. Undaunted, they meet his gaze, their own wide and earnest. “You’re not responsible for this. It was my own choice and my own fault for not knowing what was happening. Or, if you want to go even deeper than that, it’s the fault of the witches that made Mammon form pacts with them.”

His tail tightens, until it’s enough to make breathing difficult. “You really think I don’t know what you did? I entered your dreams after you were taken away. I _saw_ what happened.”

Their breath leaves in a rush.

“Oh,” they say softly.

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes his lips. It’s a sound they haven’t heard since the Lilith fiasco. Its return _hurts_ something deep inside.

“You forfeited your life when you consumed another soul, but your soul is _ours_.” His teeth bare as his hands tighten around their wrists. “You don’t get to throw your life away. You don’t get to act like it’s nothing.”

He’s choking them, tail wrapping tight around their throat to cut off their airways. “Belphie—”

If he continues, he’s going to end up triggering the pact’s failsafe. It’s never happened before, but Briar has read up on it. It didn’t sound pleasant and the last thing they want is for their pacts to cause any kind of pain.

There’s a faint reminder at the back of their head of a time when he’d tried and succeeded in killing them this way. Briar does their best to push it away. They’ve had that discussion, mended those bridges. They know Belphie doesn’t want them dead.

Something dark and poisonous pools in their belly. It digs hooks into their throat and hauls itself up onto their tongue. Their head pounds like they’re being hit with a sledgehammer, over and over again. Spots that aren’t Belphie’s doing begin to swim across their vision as Briar fights to control the pain.

Belphegor’s tail loosens around their throat. “Briar?” Realization spreads across his face when they cough. “Fuck, I’m—”

Briar shakes their head wildly when he reaches for them. Their jaw aches with the strain of containing whatever dark creature is battering against the wall of their teeth. It hurts, far too much.

What could be blood hits their tongue before they’re forced to suck in another breath.

_You dare touch this body—_

Briar cries out as Belphegor slams into the wall across the room. Their legs tremble when they climb out of the bed to rush to his side. “I’m sorry,” they gasp. “are you okay? Please be okay.”

Belphie blinks dazedly as they take his face between their hands.

Beelzebub pounds up the stairs. His eyes are wild when he searches the room before falling onto Belphegor and Briar’s kneeling forms. “I heard a yell—” he blinks at Belphegor as if seeing him for the first time and breaks out into a wide smile. “Belphie, you’re awake!”

Belphegor shakes his head and finds his voice. “I’m okay,” he rasps. “you just surprised me.” His hands find their throat to run over the red line his tail has left behind. His lips twist into a frown. “I’m sorry I lost control.”

“You came back, that’s all that matters.” Briar presses a kiss to his palm before holding their arm out to Beel. “Get over here, I can tell you want to hug him.”

Beelzebub’s shoulders hunch sheepishly. He wastes no time in closing the distance between them before scooping both Briar and his brother up into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re both back.”

“Sorry for worrying you,” Belphie mumbles.

Beel flops back onto the bed, earning a shriek and a quiet huff from them both. “I knew Briar would get through to you.”

“I used a command; I wouldn’t say that’s really getting through.” Briar smiles into his chest and twines their fingers with Belphegor’s. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

“Likewise.”

“I think I’ve experienced enough drama in the past week to cover several months. Maybe the universe will give me a break.”

Belphie snorts. “When has it ever given anyone a break?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, Belphie. It isn’t good for you.” They ruffle his hair just to watch his nose crinkle. “You know what Asmo would say.”

“’It’ll give you wrinkles,’” they all chime in unison.

Briar laughs. It washes away the after taste of poison, though they can’t help the faint unease that still sits heavy in their stomach. Diavolo had said their powers were sealed, so why—and how—had they sent Belphegor across the room?

They push the thought aside for later contemplation.

It was gone now, and they would much rather spend time with their demons. Especially considering everyone’s mental state.

“I think a sleepover is a good plan for tonight,” Briar ventures. “What do you guys think?”

“Popcorn is always good.”

Belphie shrugs. “So long as it involves sleeping with you.”

They smirk over at him. “Not even going to buy me dinner first? Do you really think I’m that easy?”

His cheeks flush but it doesn’t stop him from biting back. “I’ve seen some of your dreams. We can get dinner afterwards.”

Beelzebub’s chest rumbles with a laughter that shakes Briar slightly.

They hold their pinky out. “Deal.”

Belphegor hooks his own with theirs to seal the promise. “It’s a date then.”

Briar grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Demon briar](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/616730587491909632/briar-in-their-developing-demon-form)
> 
> [More on Briar's pacts and how they formed](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/616693319860387840/additionally-if-i-may-be-so-bold-as-trip-l-to)
> 
> You're all such sweethearts and your comments have me LIVING


	10. What's A Soul Between Enemies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took forever and I am Tired
> 
> Currently sick and waiting to find out if I have corona so if there's any mistakes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I wrote this in a haze pft

The fields are alive with the sound of cricket song and the distant groans of cattle. Kestral gathers the skirts of her petticoat to scramble up over the stone wall in front of her. She lands on her feet in the dirt on the other side and straightens to come face to face with her unimpressed sister.

“Mamma ain’t gonna be happy if you tear another hole in your clothes.”

“Mamma doesn’t have to know.” Kestral brushes past her to walk along the crumbling wall. “Let’s go before she wakes up.”

Alice sighs even as she falls into step beside her. At her elbow hangs the basket they’d both hidden away in the barn where Mamma wouldn’t be able to find it. Her back was getting too worn to be able to climb the ladder of the hayloft.

“You really think Eileen will be there?”

“She promised.” Kestral frowns and kicks at a stone in her path. “I didn’t collect all that hair and animal fat for nothin’.”

Alice is silent as she pauses to help Kestral up and over a fallen log. They’re approaching the outskirts of the forest, out of sight of their village. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I have to, Alice. Mamma won’t listen to me and if I don’t James will take me away.” She hooks her arm with Alice’s. She’s warm against her side as they step into the mist crawling through the foliage. “I’m not goin’ to leave you.”

“Maybe you should. Mamma is right—”

“Zounds! Finish that sentence and I’ll dunk you in the stream!”

“I’m only sayin’—”

Kestral whirls to glare up at her. Her chest heaves as bitter tears of anger wet her eyes. “You want me gone, is that it?! Well too bad! I don’t _want_ to go! I want to stay here with you!”

Her face gentles. Alice reaches out to brush away Kestral’s tears before pulling her into a warm embrace. “Oh Kes, of course I want you to stay. But this place isn’t big enough for you, you need room to grow.”

Her hands curl into the back of Alice’s waistcoat. “Then come with me,” she pleads. “Mamma will be well off after the weddin’, there’s no reason you can’t.”

“I—”

“You’ve come.”

They both turn to face the shrouded figure before them. A well-worn hand lifts to pull a hood back from a somber face. Eileen’s eyes fall onto the basket in Alice’s arms before she nods towards the path behind her. “Come. We have little time.”

They share a look before Kestral falls into step behind her with Alice in tow. They walk silently, as if any spoken sound will shatter the peace around them. Eileen’s long white braid sways in front of Kestral like a horse’s tail. There’s a small stick stuck in the side that she doesn’t dare try to take out.

The soft bubble of the stream reaches Kestral’s ears before they step out onto a small bank.

“You know what you must do.”

Kestral nods and moves to strip as Eileen and Alice unload the basket. The moon is just barely visible through the trees and soon to be gone for the sun’s rise. She stands still when Eileen paints blood onto her stomach; it’s still warm and sends goosebumps out over her skin.

Alice’s lips are pressed together into a worried line when she hands over the pouch of hair and fat. “Be careful,” she whispers.

Kestral grins through her nerves. “Always.”

Eileen follows her into the stream and meets her eyes. “Remember not to drop the coal.”

She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Her shoulders push back as she holds her hand out. Her fingers barely tremble, much to her own pride. She has been practicing. She is ready. “I won’t.”

“May the moon be with you sister.” Eileen tips the smoking bowl in her hands over. The hot coal inside hits Kestral’s palm with a faint sizzle.

Across the stream Alice watches with wide eyes. Her lips tremble in an attempted smile when Kestral looks over at her through her tears.

She doesn’t drop the coal.

Mamma doesn’t comment on the bandages on Kestral’s hand other than to snap at her to work through the pain. It blisters and bleeds when she works the fields, but Alice is always there in the evening to treat it with salve and bitter smelling herbs.

“Do you think it worked?” She whispers.

Kestral looks up at the moon. “It had to.”

The wedding takes place in the evening, when the sun is just beginning to set. Kestral’s wound is hidden beneath the gloves she wears. She doesn’t wince when James takes her hand in his own, nor does she show an ounce of anything other than muted happiness. A bride is not meant to be overly enthusiastic; her behavior is now a reflection onto her husband.

He takes her to bed in the Inn’s finest rooms and strips her of her clothes. He doesn’t notice the healing burns on her palm, not the faint outline of the symbol on her stomach. The shadows hide her, and the moon’s light slips in through the parted curtains in silent support.

She stands at the window long after he’s asleep and watches as her palm heals over into a shiny scar.

James is dead by the end of the month.

“Is this really alright?” Alice looks around as Kestral frees herself from her coif. Her black hair tumbles down her back as she tosses the offending fabric onto the small side table beside the door.

“I didn’t go to bed with James only to _not_ inherit his estate. The perks of being a widow.” She walks straight past the living room and into the kitchen where James had kept some of her favorite wine. She pours two glasses and downs more than half of her own in one go.

Alice watches her disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t be so reckless. What if somethin’ happens?”

“I’m a grievin’ widow, Alice, with my dear old sister here to comfort me.” Kestral hands over one of the glasses with a flourish. “There’s nothing to worry over.”

She clinks their glasses together pointedly when Alice’s continues to hang loose between her fingers.

“I just don’t know if this was a good idea,” Alice says softly. “what if someone finds out?”

“They won’t.” She throws an arm around her shoulder. “Stop worrying so much, Alice! We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us—and free of men, might I add! We’re just a spinstress and a poor widow, doing what we can to live out the rest of our wretched lives.”

Alice rolls her eyes and finally downs some of the wine. “Oh, I wish you would quit talkin’ like that. Mamma would beat you black and blue if she heard.”

“Mamma isn’t _here_.”

“No,” she admits. “I guess not.”

It’s a year after they’ve settled into the estate that Alice begins having fits. Her screams echo through the halls like she’s being attacked; a banshee taken on human form. Kestral is always there to catch her when her eyes roll back and her body shakes. Mumbled nonsense leaves her lips; nonsense that Kestral makes sure to record in a journal just in case.

She has no choice but to call a doctor when Alice breaks out into a fever that won’t seem to break. She tosses and turns, brow furrowed in a pain Kestral can’t seem to make go away.

“I’ve seen a similar case,” Doctor Cromwell tells her gravely.

“Well?” She tosses her head impatiently when he doesn’t continue. “How do we fix it?”

“Mrs. Pearson, perhaps we should sit down—”

“Just tell me!”

He grimaces as if just having tasted a lemon. His brows furrow as he leans closer. “It was a young girl, she had similar episodes. The parents couldn’t seem to figure it out and nothing I suggested worked. Eventually a priest was called, and the girl was killed for witchcraft.”

Kestral’s fingers find the burn on her palm before she can help it. Her eyes flicker over to Alice who lays sweating and unconscious in her bed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says faintly. “witches don’t exist.”

“I will give you instructions on a mixture to keep her hydrated, but I fear this is a case of a frail body finally giving out.” He holds out a paper with several paragraphs of instructions. “If she worsens send for me again.”

“Wait!”

Kestral catches his arm before he can disappear into the hallway. Her eyes are wide and pleading when they meet his own. “Don’t tell anyone about this! If what you say is true, then they’ll come for her.”

His lips press into a thin line; he nods. “Your business is your business.”

She lets him go. The door closes behind her as Kestral stares blankly into the shadowed room. The curtains are drawn almost entirely closed. The slivers of light that sneak in through the gaps seem almost mocking in their brightness.

Kestral moves silently to her sister’s side. She picks up the bowl of water on the side table and wets the cloth on Alice’s forehead once more.

“Please wake up, Alice. I can’t do this without you.”

Kestral wakes to find the spot next to her empty. A breeze brushes against her skin when she shoots upright. “Alice?!”

The blankets are thrown to the side when she fumbles her way out of bed. Her sleep heavy limbs threaten to give way before she manages to catch herself on a wall. Her heart pounds behind the confines of her ribs; a loud pulse that she can feel in her throat.

The balcony doors are open; the long curtains that normally block it off dance in the lazy night breeze. Kestral hurries to push past them and stills when she finds Alice standing by the railing.

“Alice?” She hesitates. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

There’s no response. Not even a twitch.

“Alice, this isn’t funny! I’ve been worried sick!”

Kestral scowls as she marches forwards. Her hand falls on her sister’s shoulder. “Talk to me!”

“The moon is so pretty, Kes.” Alice’s head rolls almost drunkenly as she turns to look at her. An almost manic smile paints her lips. “Won’t you watch it with me?”

“Alice,” she whispers. “your _eyes_.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? I feel like I can finally see.” Her smile widens, as if there’s nothing wrong. As if her normally blue eyes aren’t painted milky white. As if there isn’t an edge of something _wrong_ to her every word and action.

Kestral has never been afraid of her sister, but in this moment she comes close.

“Come inside.” Her fingers are numb when she reaches out for her sister’s hand. “You’ll catch a chill on top of everything else.”

Alice’s brow furrows. Her mouth opens as if to argue before her fingers touch the healed tissue of Kestral’s burn. “Yes,” she says faintly. “I do feel a bit strange…”

She allows herself to be led back inside. Once she’s tucked back into bed Kestral bolts the doors closed and pulls the curtains shut. No ounce of moonlight spills inside once she’s done.

“I thought you were supposed to protect me,” she whispers.

The darkness does not whisper back.

Alice has no recollection of the events of the full moon. When questioned she brushes it off as a cause of the fever, but Kestral can’t stop staring at the milky white of her left eye.

_“A fairly common symptom,” Doctor Cromwell tells her after a checkup. “she’s lucky she only went blind in the one eye.”_

Kestral doesn’t tell him that there are times when Alice still sees things out of that eye. When her lips move soundlessly, and her eyes flicker as if reading the pages of a book.

She simply thanks him and smiles.

The door slams into the wall beside it loud enough to wake Kestral who lets out a startled shriek.

“They’re coming, Kes!” Alice gasps. Her hands reach out blindly as she stumbles forward into the dark; Kestral just barely catches her before she hits the floor.

“ _Who_ , Alice?”

“They’re coming,” she repeats frantically. “it’s going to burn; we have to go—”

“You’re not making any sense!”

Alice throws off her hands and clutches at Kestral’s shoulders. Her eyes focus on her sister’s for the first time. “They _know_ , Kes! They know and they’re coming to burn the house down with us inside it!”

“That’s—”

“Insane?” Her chin lifts in challenge. It’s the most spine Alice has shown in years. “I can remember a time when I thought the same. Right when my little sister asked me if I would help her cast a curse.”

Fear stirs in Kestral, but not at Alice. Never at Alice. “Okay.” She lifts her hands to run through her hair. “You pack the clothes; I’ll get some food and we’ll take the horses. We’ll go—somewhere. Somewhere safe. Okay?”

Alice smiles. “Be quick.”

They find refuge in the woods, where the distant shouts and the light of the flames can be seen from below. Kestral watches silently as their life withers to ash and knows there is no going back. Not for them.

“I’m sorry,” Alice whispers. “it’s my fault. They found out about my fits.”

Kestral wraps an arm around her shoulders and leans close. “They would have come eventually, regardless. Fanatics, the lot of ‘em.”

“We’ll find Eileen. She’ll help us.”

“You think so?”

Alice raises an eyebrow.

Kestral’s eyes flick over to her white one; a small smile curls her lips. “Right. We’ll set off come morning.”

“Something is coming,” Alice murmurs.

Kestral doesn’t look up from the transcript in front of her. Her gloved hands are gentle as they smooth out the dusty pages. Her restoration spell sticks to them like glue and leaves fresh ink and clean paper in her wake. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Something bad.”

That’s enough to have her looking up. Alice stands with a wooden spoon hanging lifeless in her hand. Kestral peels off her gloves and moves to turn off the stove before anything can burn.

Alice looks through her when she turns her around by the shoulders. Her eyes flicker as they always do when she uses her _Sight_ , pupils moving back and forth across Kestral’s face.

“Alice,” she says gently. “talk to me.”

“A girl, yet not. Demons, a broken circle, death—”

Death is not a stranger to them, but it is the first time that Kestral has seen Alice so frantic over its name.

“Can you tell me more?”

Alice’s head begins to shake wildly. Her hands lift to grip at Kestral’s shoulders. “Run, Kes,” she breathes. “they’re going to kill you.”

“Who?” Kestral demands. “This isn’t the first time that someone has tried, and I doubt it’ll be the last—”

“It’s different this time.” Alice’s eyes are full. They spill over with tears when Kestral catches her face in her hands.

“They’re coming,” she repeats.

“Then we’ll face them together.”

She pours a fresh wave of magic into the sigils on the walls when they pass on their way to the bed. She guides Alice down onto the pillows and brushes her hair back from her sweat soaked face. “I’ll keep us safe, sister. I always do.”

“Beware the briar,” Alice mumbles as her eyes close. “its thorns hide poison.”

Kestral frowns and returns to the kitchen.

Strange… they’d burned the briar that remained around the house a few weeks ago.

“We can’t hide here forever,” Alice whispers.

Kestral grits her teeth. Sweat drips down her face as she pours energy into the wards. It’s not easy keeping four greater demons out of a place they want in to and she can only hold for so long.

She sends another pulse out through the pact that ties her soul to another. It’s a demand that he come to her side and fast. One that doesn’t seem to be getting through.

“Where is that useless demon?! When I get my hands on him, I’m going to skin him alive!”

Alice shudders behind her and presses a hand to her heart. Around them the sigils flicker and fade out. Kestral’s wards slip through her fingers like water and no amount of frantic gathering can keep it contained.

“Kes,” Alice whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Kestral turns with wide eyes. She has to teleport, has to get Alice out—

A scream erupts from her throat as a hand plunges into her from behind. Blood splatters across Alice’s pale face and stains her blond hair.

“Alice,” Kestral chokes.

She reaches a hand out for her sister as laughter rumbles in her ears.

“I love you,” Alice says.

Kestral’s eyes close.

Briar’s open.

* * *

They sit up with a gasp, hand moving to press over the hole in their center. They’re left shaking and confused when they find nothing but normal skin beneath their fingertips. Had they imagined everything? It had felt so real. The life, the magic, the pain—

 _Alice_ , something— _someone_ , cries out.

Briar stares down at their lap blankly. Their hands shake with faint tremors they can’t seem to get rid of. They’re not dreaming. They’re awake and hearing voices and—

_You killed her._

They stumble to the bathroom to wash the sweat from their face. Lucifer had insisted that they be given room to breathe and recover but faced with the empty darkness of their room they can’t help but wish he hadn’t.

The cold water pulls them free of the last lazy stirrings of sleep and pushes them straight into alertness. They’re not sure that it’s much better.

They’re afraid to look up into the mirror but they do it anyways. Somehow, they know what they’ll see even before they see it.

There’s a shadow shifting behind them, separate from any object or entity around them. It’s taken their own, they realize. No shifting or turning in the light causes the twisting darkness to move as it should.

“Beware the briar,” they whisper to their own reflection.

Their shadow spasms behind them and begins to drip down over their shoulder. What feels like breath brushes against their ear, colder than it should be.

 _Its thorns hide poison,_ Kestral whispers back.

Briar bites back a scream.

* * *

“No,” they chant to themselves as they pace from one end of their room to the other. “no, no, no. I’m dreaming, this can’t be real—”

_If only._

“Shut up!”

Briar whirls to pick up their D.D.D and pulls up their messaging app. It’s still fairly early but they’re far too worked up to care.

**Quick Question**

**[Briar] > I know we talked about our abilities briefly… what do ghosts look like to you?**

**[Evie] > it depends on the ghost**

**[Evie] > pop culture isnt that off about them looking pale**

**[Evie] > BUT**

**[Evie] > if a ghost is dangerous they can appear black and distorted!!! **

**[Evie] > like I said it depends**

**[Briar] > so black is bad?**

**[Evie] > generally yeah**

**Possibly an Exorcism**

**[Briar] > I need to meet up, it’s important. **

**[Solomon] > It must be if you’re up this early. **

**[Evie] > .emoji.shock.**

**[Evie] > is this about the ghosts???**

**[Solomon] > Ghosts?**

**[Briar] > I think I picked up some extra baggage **

_Rude,_ Kestral hisses.

“Shut up,” Briar snarls back.

**[Briar] > I need your help figuring out what’s happening**

**[Solomon] > Come to my dorm. Evie, I’ll give you directions. **

**[Evie] > .emoji.thumbsup.**

Briar doesn’t give themselves time to think. They change in a rush into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, grab their bag and slip out into the hall. They drop their phone into their pants pocket and shove their hair up into one of the hats Levi has gotten them. The stairs are taken by twos. The pace nearly sends them tumbling to the floor when a pair of sturdy arms catches them.

Briar curses under their breath.

“Hello to you too,” Satan says with some amusement. “I didn’t think you would be so disappointed to see me.”

“That’s not it!” They look up to find him smiling. Their own mouth twitches to answer the expression in kind before a bolt of pure rage hits somewhere deep in their stomach.

_I know him!_

“Briar?” He touches a hand to their shoulder. “Are you alright? You went pale.”

“I’m okay,” they grit out. “I’m just about to go see Solomon.”

“By yourself? It’s still late and you’re not recovered yet.”

They don’t bother pointing out that it’s actually _early_. It’s obvious that he’s spent another night pouring over books in the downstairs study. “It’s important. It really can’t wait.”

He’s silent for a few long moments before he hooks his arm through their own and begins to walk towards the door. They stumble after him in surprise.

The cool Devildom air pats gently at their cheeks when they step outside. The leaves rustle in greeting before falling still once more.

_Hell. Of course you would bring me here._

“What are you doing?”

“Joining you.” Satan pockets his phone and glances over at them. “I told Lucifer that we went out. You won’t have them all looking for you now.”

A wave of guilt crests. They’d all been worried over Briar’s wellbeing. They’d forgotten what it might do to them to find them missing after everything that had happened.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re overwhelmed, it’s only natural.” Satan pats the hand they curl around his arm. “I would like to discuss what you saw on that night, now that we’re alone.”

_Not alone._

“You mean the way you looked?”

His lips part in surprise before twisting up into a wry smile. “You remind me not to underestimate you almost constantly. It must get tiring.”

“How could I ever be tired of correcting Satan, the famous detective?”

A blush stains his cheeks. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“I take my hits when I can.” They grin up at him, tension ebbing under the weight of familiarity. “So, what is it about what I saw you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t think—differently of me.”

Briar’s brow furrows at that. “Why would I think differently of you?”

Satan’s face is full of disbelief. “You saw what I look like. Didn’t it scare you?”

Ah. They understand now.

Briar’s steps slow so that they can give him their full attention. “Satan,” they say gently. “I’ve always known that you’ve all been hiding your true selves away. Our classes covered it and even if they hadn’t, I would have expected something similar to be the case. There’s no way demons and angels look so human-like.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to pressure any of you. I know it can be a touchy subject and I wanted you to all feel comfortable in your own time.” They squeeze his hand gently. “Seeing the real you wasn’t scary. You’re beautiful no matter what form you take.”

There’s the sound of a sharp inhale from beside them but they give him a chance to compose himself.

 _A disgrace,_ Kestral hisses.

Briar ignores her. It’s not the first time they’ve been called such.

“I’m—relieved.” Satan smiles down at the ground. “It seems I was worried for nothing. It’s becoming a trend with you.”

“So long as I can get rid of them in the end. While we’re on the topic, you can tell me if you dislike me for sharing a feature with Lucifer now.”

The words are said lightly but they feel anything but. Briar keeps their gaze straight ahead, afraid of the possibility that the answer isn’t a negative. He freezes in his tracks and forces them into a stop.

“What?”

Briar scuffs one of their boots against the ground. “My eye looks like Lucifer’s. I figured you might hate it.”

They still when he catches their chin in his hands. He doesn’t give them a choice in avoiding eye contact; he steps closer until there’s no where else to look. “Briar, I could never hate you for something so out of your control.” His thumb brushes the skin beneath their crimson iris. “It’s different but I don’t _dislike_ it.”

They swallow down the lump in their throat. “Promise?”

His face gentles as he leans down to press a kiss to their forehead. “Promise.”

Briar’s hands twitch at their sides.

_I’ll **rip** his throat out—_

“We shouldn’t keep Solomon waiting.” They grab his elbow once more and begin to pull him along.

Surely there’s no way that Kestral can take over?

Then again, she’d thrown Belphegor across the room.

_I would have done more if this cursed body wasn’t so constricting!_

“Satan, I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

Briar takes a deep breath. They don’t have their pacts to ground them. It leaves them feeling like they’re floating without a tether, liable to go wherever the wind takes them. They have to remind themselves that it’s only temporary when their panic begins to rise once more.

“I think—I mean, the soul that I—swallowed, is still—”

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Satan.”

Briar looks up to see Solomon standing at the front of the House of Purgatory. He’s in a black sweater and a pair of jeans for once instead of his usual dark sorcerer getup. It’s probably the most normal they’ve ever seen him.

“Solomon.” They smile faintly and hurry closer. “It was kind of spur of the moment.”

Satan follows at a far slower pace. “Lucifer would have thrown a fit if they’d gone by themselves.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s best if he doesn’t come to break my door down for stealing away his favorite human. Then again,” Solomon smiles and casts Briar a searching look. “they’re not entirely human anymore, are they?”

Briar frowns and wraps their arms around themselves. They follow Solomon up the stairs and down a hallway with Satan a steady presence at their side. They can feel Kestral fuming inside but can do nothing to ease the faint throb of it at the back of their head.

Evie is waiting for them by Solomon’s door, glasses slipping down her nose as she messes with her phone. She straightens when she sees them and grins. “Looks like we’re all on time.”

Solomon inclines his head. He opens the door to let them all in and gestures towards the sitting room. “Please, sit. I’ll make us some tea.”

Making tea turns out to mean summoning an already hot kettle and having it pour out their drinks itself.

Briar watches as the cups hop across the coffee table to their respective owners and accepts their own into their hands with some bemusement. It settles down once they’ve got a good grip and goes inanimate once more.

“So,” Evie looks over at Briar expectantly. Her own cup wiggles its handle faintly. “You said you have a ghost problem?”

“Yes, I’m rather curious as well.” Solomon crosses his legs and gestures for them to take the floor. “What’s so dire you’re awake at this hour?”

Briar doesn’t bother defending their anti-morning tendencies. They’re far too distracted by the fact that Satan is watching them attentively and has no idea about what they’re about to say. They grimace as their fingers tighten around the mug in their hands.

“I—had dreams last night. Wait, no, that’s not the right word.” They shake their head. “Memories is more like it. I had memories of another person’s life.”

“You’re sure?”

Briar nods at Solomon. “I’m sure.”

“Did you get a name?” Evie asks. “That can be helpful, especially with spirits.”

“Kestral Pearson.”

Satan stiffens beside them. It’s a surprisingly noticeable tell for him, which has Briar all the more concerned. He has a troubled look on his face when they turn to meet his eyes. “Briar,” he says carefully. “Kestral is the name of the witch whose soul you devoured.”

_The name of the witch who’ll make you **pay**._

Briar winces at the volume of the words; it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you in pain?” Satan’s fingers brush against their temple before dropping to settle on their shoulder. “Remember that any side effect could be a precursor to something worse. Don’t try to suffer in silence.”

“It’s not pain, not exactly.” They sigh and stare down into their tea. “She’s just—loud?”

“You can _hear_ her?” Evie sits up straight in surprised excitement. “I’ve never met someone else who could actually communicate.”

“She talks to me,” Briar confirms. “Do you think you could—look at her?”

Her hands lift to pull her glasses off. Immediately her eyes widen in shock. “Shit.”

It doesn’t exactly do much to comfort.

“What?” Briar asks nervously.

Evie stands and reaches out to touch something behind their shoulder. Something within Briar sinks a hook into the space below their ribs and _yanks_. Satan catches their mug when their hands shoot up to clutch at their temples.

**Don’t touch me!**

A pained noise escapes Briar’s lips before they can help it.

“Sorry, sorry.” Evie withdraws quickly. “She’s pretty faint but I can still hear her. She’s not happy.”

“You _don’t say.”_

“What does she look like?” Solomon asks. He leans forward in interest as his eyes run over Briar, looking for any of the signs that Evie sees.

“She’s mostly dark tones, which isn’t good.”

Satan growls and draws her eyes, which widen as soon as they take him in.

“Evie?” Solomon presses.

“Oh, wow, sorry, there’s just—“ she coughs and shakes her head as if to rid herself of any stray thoughts. “Right. Dark tones mean a spirit doesn’t have good intentions. They’re usually angry and dangerous.”

_You’re damn right I’m dangerous!_

“Can you keep your voice down?” Briar hisses.

_Oh, I’m sorry, am I making things **inconvenient** for you? Do I need to remind you who killed who?_

“You were a threat to my family! You were torturing Mammon!”

_Mammon. I’m going to enjoy making you watch your own hands strangle him._

“That’s enough!”

Briar startles. Their eyes fly up to take in the surprisingly stern look on Evie’s face.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone, Kestral, especially not your host. Without them you’re nothing. You’ll have no tether to this world and no where to go. It’ll be an eternity of limbo.”

_Don’t tell me what to do, **little girl!** _

Something shifts and presses down on Briar’s shoulder. They look over to see the faintest outline of a hand.

_I am centuries older than you and I will not have you treat me like I’m nothing! This vessel belongs to me now._

“Excuse me?” Briar glares in what they hope is Kestral’s face. “Nothing of me belongs to you. I don’t want you here either!”

“Perhaps a binding spell would be wise,” Solomon suggests. “she doesn’t sound friendly so it would be best to prepare for the worst before it can happen.”

“What will a binding spell do?” Briar asks.

“It will forge a bond between the two of you and create what will hopefully be stability in your body. Right now, your soul is at war with hers. The binding will prevent one from taking control of the other.”

“Think of it like a pact.” Satan squeezes their hand. “She won’t be able to hurt you and you won’t be able to hurt her.”

**Absolutely not!**

Briar bites back a groan of pain. “How soon can we do it?”

Solomon shares a look with Satan.

“I can get the necessary materials,” Satan tells them. “will you be prepared to cast the spell at nightfall?”

“That should be fine.” Solomon stands to pull an aged tome off of his bookshelf. “Evie, I’d like your expertise, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” She pauses in front of Briar and flashes a small smile. “We’re going to get her under control. Try not to worry, okay?”

“Yeah.” Briar lets out a slow breath. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kestral is my bitter child pls love her
> 
> pls validate me im v tired

**Author's Note:**

> People with the ability to emotion lock or with extreme apathy are not only immune to empaths but can also render them defenseless. In my mind while the other brothers can enhance certain emotions only Belphie and Asmo can truly emotion lock--which is a very good thing for Briar
> 
> If there's anything in particular you would like to see happen in this story feel free to drop a prompt either here or on tumblr @ [apassintohell](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/) if you want
> 
> I also drew Briar so if you want to see my questionable drawing skills [you can go here](https://apassintohell.tumblr.com/post/614609454414036992/seeing-all-the-art-out-there-of-peoples-mcs-made)
> 
> Comments are fuel!


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